


How to Tame a Dragon's Fire

by afterandalasia



Series: Life Built on Snow and Ashes [1]
Category: DreamWorks Dragons (Cartoon), Frozen (2013), How to Train Your Dragon (Movies)
Genre: Abandonment, Action/Adventure, Alternate Universe, Background Established Gobber the Belch/Stoick the Vast, Crossover, Dragon Riders, Elsa Has Ice Powers, Father-Son Relationship, Gen, Historical, Interspecies Friendship, Languages, Male-Female Friendship, Minor Character Death, Minor Original Character(s), POV Hiccup Horrendous Haddock III, Plotty, Wildlings - Freeform, Worldbuilding
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-11
Updated: 2016-03-09
Packaged: 2018-05-01 03:59:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 18
Words: 108,238
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5191358
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/afterandalasia/pseuds/afterandalasia
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>This is Berk. We’ve got dragons to the north, wildlings to the south, and weather all over the bloody place. Plenty of ways to make yourself look like a hero, but plenty more ways to make yourself look like a fool.</i>
</p><p> </p><p>Hiccup’s only ever been any good at one of them.</p><p>This summer, he’s determined, he’s going to turn it around.  Two steps: catch a wildling, one of the strange creatures, possibly not even human, that live in the Wildlands to the south; shoot down a dragon with the machine on which he’s been working for moons now.</p><p>Only even that doesn’t quite manage to go to plan. Because the wildling looks all-too-human, and the dragon all-too-familiar, and suddenly Hiccup is struggling to figure out what he wants at all, instead of just how to get it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [ashleybenlove](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=ashleybenlove), [whatareyouwaitingfor](https://archiveofourown.org/users/whatareyouwaitingfor/gifts).



> This whole series is dedicated to ashleybenlove, who has been there for the last eighteen months as I went from jokes and planning all the way through to the monster that is now unfolding itself. She was also behind the original prompt that got me thinking - the idea of Hiccup and Elsa meeting. While I quickly wrote a one-shot set in their canon universe, the idea really settled into my mind and the next thing that I knew, this idea had spawned.
> 
> This fic was originally written with knowledge only of Frozen and HTTYD1. Over the course of writing it, I watched Riders of Berk and Defenders of Berk, Gift of the Night Fury and Book of Dragons, and there will be information drawn from them in places. However, you don't need to know those canons. The idea of wildlings is, as many may have guessed, inspired by _A Song of Ice and Fire_ and _Game of Thrones_ , although these wildlings are not quite the same. There is also some inspiration taken from the BBC series _Merlin_ when it comes to magic. Again, canon knowledge is not necessary for either of these canons.
> 
> A note on shipping, because I know HTTYD ships can be contentious. Elsa & Hiccup will be platonic only. Astrid/Hiccup is one of the endgame ships. Established Gobber/Stoick is in the background because despite being mostly a femslasher, I found myself shipping them hard. If anyone wants to know other endgame ships, they can be seen on [the series page](http://archiveofourown.org/series/351317) \- but be warned, that way lie major **spoilers**.

Hiccup would be the first one to admit that there weren't that many good things about living on Berk. Actually, it probably wouldn't count as much of an admittance, considering he could extol its problems at considerable length. But on the bright side, at least there were Rules.

It wasn't like they were anything official. Vikings weren't exactly the sort for rules, after all. But as long as you made sure that all of your fishing vessels were well-protected, kept the trap-lines to the south of the village well-mended and always made sure that there was plenty of water to be had... it wasn't too bad. In fact, that was the easiest way to remember the issues involved in living in Berk, from minor to major: the weather, the wildlings and the dragons.

They were just facts of life when it came to living in Berk. So when the alarm was sounded in the small hours of another morning, the wildling-pattern of alternating long and short blasts, Hiccup hit the ground running.

Well, technically he hit the floor face-first as he fell out of bed. But then he grabbed the weighted net that was hanging over the foot of his bed and by the time that he hit the stairs, he was taking them two at a time. And he didn't really hit ground until he was outside anyway.

So _then_ he hit the ground running.

For about three steps. Until someone grabbed him by the back of his shirt and pulled him back so forcibly that his feet actually left the ground for a moment.

“Oh, come _on_.”

“What do you think you’re doing?” boomed Stoick. The man didn’t have a volume below deafening. Hiccup winced, and tried to hide the net from his father’s view despite still standing on the tips of his toes. “You stay here when the wildlings attack, you know that!”

When it came to dragons, Hiccup supposed that he could count himself lucky that he was at least allowed to go as far as the smithy to help Gobber. “I thought I could... help,” he said. “Like with the dragons.”

“Aye,” said Stoick. Somehow, one word managed to convey whole mountains of disappointment. “Because we know how well _that’s_ turning out.”

“Hey!” Hiccup bristled despite himself, turning in his father’s grip so that they were something more like facing each other. In the light of the torches, Stoick looked particularly fearsome, all blood-red beard and heavy armour. Even compared to the rest of the tribe, he was an imposing figure. Then again, when you were Hiccup’s size, pretty much _everyone_ was an imposing figure. His father was just another one among many. “I can help! You need every person you can get to defend against them!”

“Which is why I can’t spare people to follow you around,” snapped Stoick.

With an angry flourish, Hiccup produced the net, brandishing it at his father. “See this? This is-”

“A _net_? You...” Stoick looked like he wasn’t sure whether to put his head in his hands or clip Hiccup round the ear.

“Anti-magic, Dad! I’ve checked the books, I looked it up!”

He probably should have known that argument wouldn’t be particularly helpful. Vikings weren’t really ones for books, either. There was only one that got any traction around Berk, and that was the Book of Dragons. The sort that Hiccup liked to read didn’t even have the violent pictures to keep peoples’ attention.

“Attack on the east flank!” came the holler from somewhere in the distance. “All hands to station.”

“I can _help_ ,” repeated Hiccup. He could hear the desperation in his own voice, which was almost certainly not a good sign.

“Aye,” said his father. “You can get yourself set on fire. Or find that wildling that could call down lightning. That was very helpful.”

“That was once!” he protested. Stoick raised an eyebrow. “Fine,  _twice_. But this will work, Dad!” He gestured with the net again. “You have to trust me! I can-”

“You can help best,” said Stoick, pushing Hiccup further into the house, “by staying here. And no arguments!” he added, before Hiccup could get another word in.

Then the door was closed. He heard the slam of the bar being thrown across it from the outside, a delightful reminder to everyone in the village of just how much of a disappointment he was. Letting out a growl that really didn’t manage to have enough menace behind it, Hiccup twisted his hands tightly into the net which he had painstakingly made. The writing of some of the old books was pretty difficult to read, and considering this one mentioned trolls it had been written off by most people as being full of fairy tales. Personally, Hiccup had thought that there hadn’t been nearly enough grisly endings for them to be fairy tales, and in poring through the book had read about the various plants of the region instead. Most people wrote off trollwort as just another inedible weed with a fanciful name.

He _had_ to show them differently.

The net was messy; he wasn’t a spinner, didn’t have a wheel or a spindle or anything of that sort. To be honest, it was more of a bunch of ropes tied together, with stones at the end to weight it down. Like a tangle of bolas. But he was sure that if they would listen to him, just this once, it would work.

“Odin forgive me,” muttered Hiccup, and ran upstairs again. It wasn’t the first time that he’d climbed out of the window, and to be fair it probably wouldn’t be the last. It was a tight fit even for him, and he had to throw the net out first then wriggle out, managing to twist around so that he slid off the roof onto his feet rather than onto his head. But he made it out, grabbed the net, and looked around.

As usual, it was chaos. At least it was easy to spot a dragon when they attacked; wildlings came in smaller groups, sometimes even just one or two, and a figure in the darkness was a figure in the darkness. You couldn’t shoot or throw an axe unless you were sure it was an enemy. Or, this being Vikings, a really good and forgiving friend.

The thing was that he couldn’t actually see any fighting. Everyone was running about like lunatics - Hiccup managed not to roll his eyes at that thought – but there didn’t seem to be any actual wielding of blades or capturing of wildlings. He crept around the edges of the houses, then glanced out over towards the forest.

Now, the forest was hard to get through at night. The limestone ground was riddled with holes in any number of places, the trees liked to leave roots in the way, and the streams were so covered in algae that crossing them without falling over took serious practice. But that was where most of the Viking defences were. If Hiccup were a wildling, he would go for the foothills of the mountains.

He took off in that direction. The mountains that made up the spine of the island - it was always _the island_ , because the argument over whether it should be called Berk or Arendelle had been raging for the past two hundred years and showed no sign of abating - curved eastwards as they reached the northern end, and the village of Berk was built on the very northernmost part of the island, the plateau beyond them. They were uninhabitable, a bastard to cross, and even dragons seemed to prefer to go around them rather than try to make their way through or over. The Vikings flatly avoided them.

Definitely what Hiccup would go for.

He wasn’t carrying a torch, and the usual clouds were blocking out the moon or stars. It got a lot harder to see once he left the village. Hiccup slowed to a walk, readying the net in his hands, and at an appropriate moment sidled into a patch of bushes which gave him some sort of cover.

And he waited.

Hiccup was used to waiting – most of his life had been made up of it. Waiting to get taller, waiting to get stronger, waiting for his father to stop looking at him in that disappointed way... all right, so none of that had really _happened_ yet, but it didn’t stop him from waiting for them anyway. Waiting was fine.

He could do waiting.

Except waiting was really, really boring.

Crouching in the bushes like a lunatic, clutching something that could only charitably be called a net, waiting for a wildling to pass. He checked that his knife was in his boot, and shifted to try to hunker more comfortably. Shifted again. Checked his knife a second time. Felt really stupid.

Well, at least that wasn’t too much of a novelty either.

Finally, though, the alarm stopped sounding, and the shouting and running to and fro coalesced into – Hiccup stretched upwards to peer out of the bushes – a cluster of people forming in the middle of the village, probably all demanding to know what had happened. Well, at least that meant that his father would be distracted for the time being. It probably meant that the wildling or wildlings had managed to get away again, though. Sighing, Hiccup dropped to his ass on the ground and hung his head. It was cold, and he was crouching in the bushes like an idiot. Great. Well, at least no-one else had seen him.

He started to get up when a flicker of movement in the shadows of the nearest houses caught his attention. Heart in his mouth, Hiccup picked up his net again. He rocked back to his feet, still crouching, as he caught a glimpse of something pale in the darkness – skin, perhaps, or hair. It wasn’t so much the figure itself that got his attention, though, as the way it moved, dipping from shadow to shadow. Furtive.

Not the way that a Viking moved.

He readied the net in his hands. “Come on,” he muttered. “Come closer... a little closer...”

Most of the people in the village had killed at least one dragon by the time that they hit sixteen or seventeen years old. Nobody expected Hiccup to manage even _that_ in the next couple of years. But catching and killing a wildling? Relatively few of the men or women in the village had done that. Wildlings were faster, smarter, and less noticeable than dragons. And if you weren’t paying attention... they started looking too human.

The figure had something bundled up in its arms. Probably food; that was what most commonly went missing. Hiccup took a deep breath as the figure stumbled, then looked round sharply as if they heard something and took off at a run.

He did not intend to miss this chance.

With an attempt at a battle cry, Hiccup burst out of the bush and flung the net, weighted as it was, in the direction of the fleeing wildling. At just the same moment, a rather more believable cry cut through the air, and he was slammed bodily into the ground.

For a moment, all he saw was stars. Then by the dim distant light of the village a face became visible, peering at him in bewilderment that quickly turned to offended fury.

“ _Hiccup?!”_

Well, at least she lowered the hand axe that she had been waving in his direction. “Astrid,” he replied. He went to push her away, but it was Astrid who got to her feet and hauled him upright so viciously that it almost sent him falling again. “Fancy meeting you out here.”

“What in Thor’s name are you _doing_?” she demanded, emphasising her point with the hand axe again. Hiccup took a careful step away.

“Gathering wildflowers,” he replied flatly. He hoped that he could find that net again, though it might have to wait for morning. That trollwort had been hard to find, harder still to get into something resembling a rope.

Torches were starting to turn in their direction, their bearers probably drawn over by the twin battle cries. Oh, good, an audience. Just what Hiccup wanted right now.

“You...” Astrid broke off into a growl. “I saw that wildling! I would have had them!”

“You know, I have been called many things,” said Hiccup, “but not a wildling. That’s a new one. Thank you very much.”

“What’s going on over...” Stoick’s voice trailed off into his usual vague disappointment as he caught proper sight of the pair of them. He gestured for Astrid to step aside, then stepped forwards to loom over Hiccup. It probably wasn’t intentional looming, but it was there all the same. “Oh, for Thor’s sake...”

“I have a very good explanation for this,” Hiccup began, only to be grabbed by the shoulder and hauled off for the second time in the night. “I haven’t done anything!”

“No, because there’s no chance that the wildling got away while you and Astrid were having your little shouting match,” said Stoick.

His tone of voice broached no arguments. With a sigh, Hiccup gave up and allowed himself to be carried like a wet rag back up through the village. At least his shoulder-sockets were apparently strong, to be able to be carried around like this.

“And for the rest of the night,” said Stoick as they got nearer, “you’re going in the woodshed.”

The lockable woodshed. With no windows. _Brilliant._

 

 

 

 

 

Unsurprisingly, it transpired that humiliation and a lump of wood for a pillow did not make for a particularly peacdceful night. Nonetheless, Hiccup was actually asleep by the time that the door to the woodshed was opened the next morning, and rolled out onto Gobber’s feet.

Well, foot, at least.

“Good morning, sunshine,” said Gobber cheerily. He broke the usual pattern of grabbing Hiccup by the shoulder, and instead hooked him through his belt to drag him to his feet. Because the last day hadn’t been humiliating enough.

“Morning, Gobber.” Hiccup straightened himself off and tried to brush the splinters off his face without embedding them in his skin instead. “So, how pleased is my father with my achievements this time?”

The look which Gobber gave him just about said it all. Hiccup sighed, and tried to stretch out the crick in his back.

“Great. Another proud day for the Haddock clan.”

“Oh, it’s not that bad,” said Gobber. “You didn’t set anything on fire this time.”

“Thank you for that vote of confidence.”

He couldn’t deny it, though, especially considering the fact that ‘anything’ could actually include himself. It probably said something that they were so short of men nowadays that they even let Hiccup into the forge to help out. Hiccup let the matter slide, and it wasn’t until after Gobber had doled out the usual breakfast portion of uninspiring porridge – made the Viking way, so thick you could stand your spoon up in it – that he spoke up again.

“So, where is Dad?”

“Going over the armoury, to make sure the wildling didn’t get anything from it. Last I heard it was only food that was missing so far. Then I’m meeting him at the arena to check over the dragons. The Gronckle’s got a dicky stomach – you should _see_ the-”

“Whoa, thank you!” Hiccup threw up his hands defensively. “I don’t think I want to hear that, Gobber, thank you very much. You want me at the forge today, then?”

Gobber shook his head, pausing to lick a bit of porridge off one end of his moustache. “No, not today. Going to be arena business anyhow. But you keep yourself out of trouble!” he added, as Hiccup took the opportunity to slide out from his seat and make a break for the door.

“I will!”

It was probable that Gobber muttered something disbelieving in his wake.

 

 

 

 

 

Berk was still entertaining its annual attempt at summer, so it was only spitting with rain as Hiccup made his way back around the edge of the village to where he had so thoroughly made a fool of himself the previous night. There was even a nice hacked-off edge to some of the foliage to indicate where Astrid had been about to try to kill him. He wandered in the direction that he had seen the wildling, but they had not been following a path and he couldn’t see any footprints. Probably wouldn’t have been visible by the time that half the village trooped over to see what was going on, anyway.

He was fully aware that he wasn’t that good at throwing things. Which meant that if the bushes were _there_ , and the person had only looked to be about  _this_ far away...

Then his net had probably ended up under the large firethorn bush at the base of the hill. Somehow, Hiccup felt that he should have predicted something like that happening. With a sigh, he shrugged off his vest and wrapped it around his left forearm, hoping that it would at least keep out the worst of the thorns, and set about levering back the lower-to-the-ground branches in search of his net.

He frowned when he saw the hole in the ground instead. Sure, they were on limestone here and there were more than enough caves to go around, but normally the men of the village went round plugging up the local ones with clay. It stopped children falling in, not to mention the general paranoia about wildlings. Of course, though, this one would be open to the sky so that it could swallow up Hiccup’s hard-won trollwort net.

“Could _one thing_ go right today?” he asked no-one in particular, then flinched in full expectation of receiving a thorny branch to the face. Mercifully, it didn’t happen.

The hole was definitely big enough to fall down, pretty steep but the rock rough enough to climb back up through as well. With a resigned roll of his eyes, Hiccup spun round and lowered himself down into the hole, letting the firethorn bush ping back into place above his head as he made his way down. More than once, his foot almost slipped from under him, but there was just about enough light to see by and he picked his way down.

The vertical tunnel gave way to a horizontal one, not quite tall enough to stand up in, with a silty, muddy floor. At the far end, more light was visible. What was not visible, however, was Hiccup’s net.

“Oh, great...”

He glanced back where he’d just climbed down, then to the flat tunnel. Probably worth at least seeing where it came out before he put the effort into climbing back up again. He put his vest back on and made his way down, muttering curses on firethorn bushes as he picked a few stray thorns out of the fur. One of the relatively few advantages of being the chief’s son was that he always got new clothes, not second-hand ones, although where Gobber had turned out to be such a dab hand with a needle and thread was anyone’s guess. And the smell of yak had just about been washed out of this one.

The tunnel opened out into a sinkhole, with enough of the roof still clinging on to provide shelter from the rain. Hiccup looked around and wrinkled his nose. Looked like it was going to be a climb back up after all. Just as he was going to turn around, though, he glanced down, and stopped abruptly. His were not the only footprints.

The mud at his feet looked fairly smooth, but there was at least one very clear print of a bare foot on the ground right in front of him. Hiccup drew the knife from his belt, wished that he had something more substantial, and then wished as well that he was really capable of using something more substantial. He looked around the sinkhole again: a small stream ran through it, widening in the centre to something of a pool, and clearly the collapse had been long enough ago for grasses and ferns to start establishing themselves around the pool’s edge. The edges of the sinkhole were darker, disappearing into worrying shadows.

He edged around the large boulders to his left, only to find himself looking at a makeshift lean-to against the wall. It looked like the remains of a tent, though it was dirty and looked in places like the felting was wearing away from the wool. A fireplace was not far from it, and a few pots and baskets. No weapons, though, and no sign of movement.

Barely daring to breathe, Hiccup stepped closer. The mossy floor, at least, was quiet enough to be considered in his favour. He picked his way around the edge of the camp, round to the open flap of the tent, and then whirled round and presented his dagger to the occupant.

Who was asleep.

A young woman lay on the floor of the tent. She didn’t look much older than him, though it was hard to tell. She looked skinny, her hair dirty, her clothes ragged and worn. Hiccup’s net was on the ground beside her. As he looked more closely, though, he saw the sweat on her forehead and the way that she twitched in her sleep; as he peered towards the far end of the tent he could see her bare feet, and the fact that one of them was swollen and turned at an unnatural angle.

“Oh, Thor...” Hiccup muttered.

At his words, the girl jerked awake, and looked around desperately before turning and fixing Hiccup with a look of absolute _terror_. It wasn’t something he was at all used to. She sat upright and tried to pull away from him, only to cry out and clutch at her ankle instead.

“Hey, hey, it’s all right!” said Hiccup, then realised that the hand he was gesturing with still held the knife. That probably wasn’t helping. He dropped to one knee, putting the knife on the ground, and held both hands out in placation. “I’m not going to hurt you.”

She looked straight at him and said something, but the words were meaningless. When Hiccup frowned, she spoke again, more slowly, but he just shook his head.

“I’m sorry, I have no idea what you’re saying. But you’re hurt, aren’t you? Come on, let me see if I can help.”

He shuffled forwards, about to creep into the tent, when one of her hands flashed up and towards him. Hiccup threw himself backwards, expecting a knife or a hatchet, but instead a blast of something white flew past his head and shattered against the rock behind him.

Hiccup frowned, and looked over his shoulder. It took him a moment to process what he was seeing, and recognise the chunks of ice scattered on the ground.

“Wo-argh!” He rolled sideways and to his feet in a movement of which his father might actually have been proud, backing away from the flap of the tent and, he realised a moment too late, his knife. “You’re a wildling! You’re... you’re...”

He trailed off, though his heart was still pounding. For a start, if he couldn’t understand her then she probably couldn’t understand a word that he was saying either. Secondly, all that she knew was that she had woken up to find a stranger with a knife looking at her. And thirdly, magic or not, it was a bit hard to really be scared of a girl dressed in rags and with an injury that clearly left her in pain.

Breathing deeply, Hiccup lowered his hands again, and walked back round so that he was in sight of the mouth of the tent. The girl was watching him warily, one hand still outstretched, but she made no move to grab for his knife or to attack him again.

Nobody was quite sure who – or what – the wildlings were. They were _pretty_ sure that they were human, although even that was a matter of some debate after a few drinks or when everyone had been sheltering together in the Great Hall for too many days in a row. Some of them had magic, the only users thereof that Berk had ever met with, and nobody knew why: dark deals, interactions with non-human creatures, even being non-human creatures themselves. Berk was not the only place to have to deal with them, but Arendelle denied any knowledge of them, and were more than a little smug about the great crevasse that cut off the southernmost quarter of the island from the rest of it. Arendelle controlled the only bridge, not that it was much used, and to hear them tell it was enough to keep out any wildlings.

All that the Vikings knew was that they attacked in the night and stole from Berk. They had been responsible for more than a few deaths over the years, although the Vikings had probably managed to return the favour in the number of wildlings they captured and killed. And the magic had taken various forms over the years.

Hiccup had never seen ice, though. Well, he’d seen plenty of ice – this was, after all, Berk – just not of the magical sort. Usually if there was a wildling with magical abilities out there, Hiccup managed to run into them in some horrifyingly embarrassing manner. At least with dragons you knew just from looking at them what they were capable of.

“I’m not going to hurt you,” he repeated. In the spirit of honesty, he added: “And I would really appreciate it if you didn’t hurt me either. Deal?”

He slowly started to close the distance back again. The girl just sat there watching him. At one point, her hand twitched and Hiccup flinched away, but she did not shoot more ice. He could not help noticing the fact that he could see his breath on the air, though, and that there was ice creeping across the floor of her tent. It spread to within a few inches of the trollwort net, then stopped.

“Well, at least that worked.”

He took another step closer, but a look of panic crossed the girl’s face and she scrambled out of the tent. Her ankle seemed to fail her, and she stumbled back against the wall, where ice immediately began to spread around her.

“Whoa, hey, hey!” Hiccup protested, holding up his hands as if someone was threatening to use him as a knife throwing target again. “Look, I just want... I want to _help_ you.”

Even as he said the words, part of him was surprised at himself. The only thing that most Vikings hated more than wildlings was dragons. But dragons were dragons, and the wildling girl in front of him was looking very human and very hurt, and Hiccup just couldn’t summon up the appropriate hatred for her.

“Sit down,” he said, “let me have a look at your ankle. Maybe I can help.”

Healing was supposed to be Gothi’s job, the prerogative of women in general, but any Viking was expected to be able to help a comrade in battle. Besides, Hiccup had sustained more than a few injuries of his own over the years.

He gently gestured for her to sit down, and she sank down the wall, watching him warily but with perhaps a little less fear than before. She had white-blonde hair beneath the dirt, and very blue eyes, and it was probably only how thin she was that would have stopped her from passing for a Viking. Well, that and the ragged clothing that she wore.

She fell the last foot or so with a grunt of pain, injured ankle stretching out in front of her. Hiccup crouched down beside it, eyes not leaving hers and trying to look as reassuring as he could. Possibly even as if he knew what he was doing here. Finally, the girl gave the tiniest of nods, and he looked down towards her ankle.

“I... yeah, that’s bad,” he said. Her ankle was clearly broken, foot stiff beneath it, swollen and bruised. Her legs were scraped, and he glanced up to see that her arms and cheek were as well. Hiccup winced as he realised that his net could well have caused her to fall down the tunnel that he had found. “And I’m a terrible person.”

She was a wildling, part of his mind was still screaming. He was supposed to want to kill her. But instead Hiccup carefully wrapped one hand around her ankle and the other around her foot, and tried to move them back into alignment.

The girl gave a hiss of pain, trying to pull out of his grip, and ice started forming on Hiccup’s vest. He dropped her foot as quickly as he dared. “Hey, hey! I know, it hurts. But if it’s dislocated, then it needs to go back or you might lose it.” Lost limbs were more often due to dragons, but there were a few around the village that had been broken rather than eaten. And Hiccup himself remembered dislocating a finger when he was a kid. “Please,” he said earnestly.

Her hands curled into fists, and she turned her face away with her eyes tightly shut. Hiccup took that as a yes.

“It’s a really good thing that you don’t know I’ve never done this before,” he said, taking hold of her leg again. Gobber had put his finger back into place, and the terror of the moment had never quite left him. It was probably going to be worse with a larger joint. “All right, three, two, one...

He felt the grate of bone on bone as he pulled on her ankle then let it pop back into place. She gave a short, harsh scream, and the ice around her cracked and fell to the ground in shards; Hiccup flinched.

“Sorry! Sorry... that should help, though, honestly...”

There was sweat on her forehead, but as he watched it froze and fell away. The ice around them retreated, curling back in towards the girl, and Hiccup actually felt the air around him get warmer. He looked up at her face again cautiously.

“Is that better?”

For a moment she kept her eyes closed, still breathing heavily through her nose, then she turned her face back towards him again. Her knuckles were not so white either. She said something; Hiccup cocked his head uncertainly, and she said it again, slow and enunciated. “ _Ei tiikos_.”

Ah, he had a suspicion what she meant. “You’re welcome,” he said.

He put her foot back on the ground again – she winced at the movement, but only a little – and rocked back on his heels. Even with the bones set, it wasn’t as if her ankle was just going to heal up immediately. The usual next step was to get the person to a healer, or a healer to the person, but that wasn’t exactly an option right now.

“You know, it feels kind of weird not even knowing your name,” he said to the girl, almost conversationally. “I mean, weirder than this whole situation, of course. My name’s Hiccup.”

The girl was frowning slightly now, which may or may not have been an improvement on the fear. She tried to curl her foot back up towards her, but hissed through her teeth and grabbed her calf instead. Hiccup let her sit there for a moment, watching the ice on her hand slowly fade away again, before he caught her eye and pointed to himself. “Hiccup,” he said.

This time, she definitely frowned. Hiccup looked up at the sky for a moment, trying to think of some way to make it clearer he was introducing himself and not making random sounds, until finally an idea struck him. He shuffled sideways to one of the ferns in the sinkhole, and shook one of its fronds like a hand.

“Good to meet you, Mister Fern,” he said. He paused, cupping one hand to his ear as if listening to some reply, then pointed to himself. “Hiccup. My name is Hiccup.”

More to his shock than his relief, the girl gave a weak giggle. “Elsa,” she replied.

“Elsa?” he said, and she nodded. Hiccup laughed as well, this time in relief, just as another thought struck him. People assumed that the wildlings didn’t have language, were hardly better than beasts. There was no sign that they had homes, or kept animals, and even the clothes that they wore always looked to be stolen. It was hardly as if they were  _people_.

But Elsa had a name. A name and a broken ankle, and that added up to so much humanity that it was difficult for even the ice to count against it. He couldn’t even really explain why he wanted so badly to help her – it had just been sort of thinkable not to. He wouldn’t leave Snotlout with a broken ankle, after all, and Snotlout had done a lot more to Hiccup than Elsa ever had. Often he had bruises to prove it.

“So, Elsa,” he shifted to get as comfortable as he could, “do you come here often?” He really couldn’t blame her for looking confused. How did you even communicate with someone where you had no shared language to begin with? Well, he supposed they sort of did in what was around them.

He pointed to a nearby boulder. “Rock,” he said. For a moment, Elsa looked at him as if he was absolutely mad, an expression which he was relatively used to considering how often Gobber used it. His father was more likely to just look disappointed. He pointed to the pool of water in the middle of the cave. “Pond.” And finally upwards. “Sky.”

Elsa’s eyes seemed to light up as she caught on. “ _Keiven_ ,” she said, pointing to the boulder. “Ruk?”

“Rock,” he said, emphasising the vowel.

“Rock,” she said, more clearly. Hiccup gave another relieved laugh, and turned his attention to the other things around them. Pointing and grunting worked pretty well with the twins, after all.

 

 

 

 

 

Elsa was definitely better at this than the twins were. As quickly as  _rock_ , they went through plant, sky, tent, fireplace, knife, net, plant, fern – he was fairly sure that he had managed to distinguish between those two once Elsa started pointing to different plants and saying ‘fern’ with a questioning look – and the more topical _ankle_. At that point it slowed down a bit as they slipped into miming at each other, and Hiccup tried to work out whether Elsa meant fall or break or hurt when she was pointing at her ankle.

He was trying to work out how to mime _magic_ when his stomach growled. Loudly. Feeling the familiar crawl of embarrassment, Hiccup looked up to see that the sky overhead was beginning to darken. This time of year, the days were starting to get shorter, but he’d still somehow lost a lot of time trying to communicate with a wildling girl.

It was probably a good thing that Gobber would presume he was looking for trolls or something.

“Look, I really have to go,” he said. Elsa looked at him curiously. “Me, go,” he pointed towards the tunnel that would lead back to the surface.

Her face fell, and he couldn’t help a pang of regret that he was going to have to leave her here. “I’ll be back tomorrow,” he protested, then realised that wasn’t really going to help all that much. Hiccup paused for a moment, looking around again, then got up and shuffled closer to Elsa. She drew away slightly, but did not move far, and Hiccup held up his hands in placation again.

There was a bare patch of earth near to her. Hiccup smoothed it down with one hand, then picked up his knife. Elsa started to breathe faster, ice crawling out from around her again, and Hiccup quickly put the point down to the dirt.

“It’s all right! I just don’t exactly have any charcoal with me.” He sketched out a sun on the horizon, facing towards Elsa, then a crescent moon, and another sun with stylised rays around it. “Today,” he said, starting at one end, “tonight, tomorrow. I’ll be back tomorrow.” He tapped the sun for emphasis.

“Tomorrow,” said Elsa. She nodded.

“All right. Now, you should get back to your tent,” he said, gesturing from her to the lean-to and back again. “Do you want some help?”

He slipped the knife into his belt and extended one hand towards her. Elsa looked down at her ankle, then pulled a rag out of her top and wrapped it around her hand before taking hold of Hiccup’s. Her grip was surprisingly tight, though her fingers were very cold even through the fabric. She got her good foot underneath her, and tried to push upwards with her foot and her other hand braced against the rock. Another whimper of pain left her lips.

“All right, let’s try again,” said Hiccup. He hooked his other arm underneath her shoulder and pulled her straight to her feet, earning a yelp which might have been surprise, pain, or a combination of the two. Turning, he slung her arm over his shoulders and pulled her weight onto him before she had a chance to pull away. “That’s better.”

It was only a few steps back to the lean-to, and Elsa seemed to weigh barely anything. That made a change after living in Berk for so long. He helped her sit back down, then reached for the trollwort net on the ground beside it. As he wrapped his hand around it, Elsa made a faint noise of protest, reaching out towards it. He looked at her in confusion for a moment.

Elsa's fingers twitched towards the net. " _Meltaa_ ," she said, very clearly.

"You... want to keep it?" Hiccup gestured with it, making the stones that he had used to weigh it down click together. It was looking worse for wear, some of the strands coming loose, and even as he held it one of the stones fell off. It was, frankly, a terrible attempt at anything, but Elas's eyes were wide and her breathing fast as she leant towards him, reaching for the net.

Slowly, he passed it back, and Elsa took it with both hands and gathered it to her chest. As she touched it, he spotted glints of ice in her hair fading away. Relief filled her eyes.

Hiccup paused. "Don't you want the magic?"

There was no real response from Elsa, who simply curled her fingers a little tighter into the net and watched him to see what he would do next. The question was far too complex, he realised, abstracts and negation and the whole idea of _want_. But the net had been the reason for her fall and her pain, and now she grabbed at it like a drowning man clutched to a line.

He sighed, and let it pass. “Tomorrow, all right?”

“Tomorrow,” said Elsa.

It wasn’t until he stumbled out of the firethorn bush that he actually stopped to wonder what in the hell he was doing.


	2. Chapter 2

The trick to life in general, Hiccup had found, was to appear completely nonchalant about everything. Even if that still left Gobber looking at him rather suspiciously when he wandered back in at sunset, with slightly scratched hands and a willingness to eat anything that was put in front of him. The former was not that unusual; the latter, more so, at least where Gobber’s mutton stew was concerned. When it came to cooking, Gobber was generally all right, and he could gut a fish in ten seconds flat, but mutton stew used up the last bits of the most recent sheep and Hiccup was always wary of eyeballs.

“So, how was the chiefing today?” he asked his father, ripping into another loaf of bread. Stoick looked surprised, and slightly flattered, to see Hiccup taking such an interest.

“Well, pretty busy,” said Stoick. “I had to look over to see what that wildling had stolen, then lead the search party to see if we could find any tracks.”

Luckily, he didn’t seem to see Hiccup jab himself in the cheek with a spoon at that point.

“Then it was up to the arena to check out the new Gronckle that we’ve got to replace the last one, and down to the wharves to see in the latest fishing boats. Seems like everything happens in the same day sometimes.”

“Oh, I hear you there,” said Hiccup.

“So...” Stoick looked a little bit uncomfortable as he realised he would actually need to continue the conversation. “How was your day, son?”

Hiccup probably should have seen that coming. He ate another spoonful of stew to buy himself time, swallowed, and answered. “Checked out a new sinkhole up in the foothills. It’s a dead end, we won’t need to worry about it.”

“Huh.” There was actually a note of being _impressed_ in his voice, which Hiccup had far from expected. “Well, that’s good to know. Probably best to let Spitelout know anyway, so he and the men can keep an eye on it.”

“Will do, Dad,” said Hiccup. He might have to find an actual sinkhole to tell them about now, he figured. Although he could always claim that he couldn’t find it again. They’d probably believe him. “Hey, Gobber, did you want me at the forge tomorrow?”

“Eh, only in the afternoon,” said Gobber. “I’ve got to muck out the Monstrous Nightmare. That one’s a right bugger when he’s testy.”

“And with that charming mental image...” Maybe the thought of eyeballs in the stew wasn’t so bad after all. But at least it meant that he would be free tomorrow morning. “Say, is it all right if I do some work at the forge tonight? I want to work on my drawing out. We always need more nails, right?”

“Ah, help yourself,” said Gobber, waving his left arm vaguely. He had attached a knife to it for the evening meal, and there was a piece of bread impaled on the end. “You know how to work the bellows. Just keep to the medium quality, leave the good stuff.”

“Will do.” Well, he’d leave the good stuff, anyway. Gobber didn’t keep such tight track of the lowest quality scrap, which was actually what Hiccup was after. He was already trying to design in his head some way of encasing Elsa’s ankle so that she would still be able to move around, but which he could put together without needing to go and ask Gothi any questions. There were only a handful of people who could actually understand her, after all.

There was a sliding scale of what Hiccup was and was not allowed to get himself involved with. Wildlings were right out, considering how often Hiccup had managed to run into them, and when the dragons were about he was only allowed in the smithy with Gobber. But when wildlings and dragons were a part of everyday life, the smithy was relatively low on the danger scale, and he was allowed to work in there in the evening.

He drew out a dozen or so nails before actually turning his attention to the lower-quality metal. Normally, Gothi would use a mixture of eggs and flour to make a paste for the bandages, and just use stout wood for the splints. But Hiccup wasn’t exactly sure how that translated to the ankle, and it had definitely been around the joint that Elsa had seemed to be in most pain.

He drew out and flattened the metal until it was a thin strip, a little over an inch wide and about twelve long, and bent it halfway down. Elsa had been about his height... he slipped off one boot and held the cooling metal by his foot, seeing if it would look reasonable. A couple of knocks to curve around the heel, and he set that piece aside. He produced two thinner rods to go down either side of her leg, and then went rooting around in the scraps of leather to find something that would hold them all together.

Mercifully, Stoick and Gobber had obviously given up for the evening and gone to bed by the time that he got home. He occasionally brought things back from the smithy, but sometimes Gobber was actually interested in them, and Hiccup was honestly too tired by now to think of a good lie as to what he had bundled up under his arm.

 

 

 

 

 

The next morning, he bolted his breakfast fast enough for Stoick to look at him curiously, and made an escape while the sun was still coming up. This time, he had made sure to grab a pair of gloves to protect his hands, and a bag in which to carry everything. There were storm clouds already rolling in overhead as he made his way to the firethorn bush, slipped underneath, and climbed down into the tunnel once again.

“Elsa?” He called, as soon as he felt far enough away from the entrance that people would not notice a talking firethorn bush. “Elsa?”

He steadfastly refused to add _are you still down here_ or anything of that sort. It felt quite ridiculous enough calling out to someone with whom you did not share a language and who, technically, you were supposed to either kill or capture, and take to the chief anyway. Hiccup was really, really trying not to think about that part.

It wasn’t as light in the sinkhole as it had been yesterday, and there was no response as he made his way in. Hiccup paused at the entrance to the tunnel, frowning, until he caught sight of a patch of white down by the edge of the pool.

“Elsa!” He broke into a run, trying not to drop the bundle under his arm, to where Elsa lay at the edge of the water. A path of ice ran from her tent to her current form; her head was on one arm, face-down, not moving.

Skidding to his knees, Hiccup grabbed Elsa’s shoulder. Ice spread up his hand and over his wrist as quick as a blink, stabbing cold into his skin, and he gave a sharp gasp. With a cry of her own, Elsa snapped away, rolling over onto her back and sitting up. Tiny flakes of snow formed in the air between them.

“It’s all right,” said Hiccup. He rubbed his hands together; the ice was already melting away and flaking off. “It’s fine. Look!” He held up his hands, wiggling his fingers. They were red, but unharmed. “I live on Berk, I can handle a bit of cold. But what... what are you doing down here?”

Though the panic was leaving her eyes, Elsa was still looking at him in faint bewilderment. He’d probably gone and thrown too many words about again. He pointed to her, then to the ground where she sat. “Why are you over here? You should be in your tent!” he pointed to the lean-to.

Elsa’s eyes followed his movements, then she pointed to the water beside her and mimed drinking from her hands.

“I forgot to get you any water,” surmised Hiccup. “Sorry about that. I’m not too good at this caretaker thing, am I? Well, hopefully today will go slightly better, starting with this.”

He produced a small loaf from the bag that he carried, and her eyes went wide. It was getting a bit stale, but somehow Hiccup got the feeling that Elsa didn’t care as he pressed it into her hands. She looked at it incredulously, then back at him, and said something.

“I didn’t get that,” said Hiccup.

Elsa gestured to the loaf, moving her hand in a circle to encompass the whole thing.

“Ah, oh, yeah, sure.” He nodded. “It’s for you, help yourself.”

The nod was probably enough. Elsa ripped off the end of the loaf and started eating, not even bothering to wipe the mud off her hands. Hiccup had overheard his father saying to Gobber that they had caught sight of the wildling by the stores, but that not much had been taken. He’d guessed that she was just hungry.

“All right, then, let’s move onto this,” he said. He pulled out the leather and metal brace that he had put together overnight, seeing Elsa’s cautious glance in its direction. There was a boulder not far behind her, a bit algae-slick but probably still better than sitting on the mud. “Come on,” said Hiccup, pointing towards it. “Let’s get you onto that.”

Elsa followed his finger, frowning, and tried to pull away the first time he went to help her to her feet. When Hiccup sighed, though, she let him put one arm under her shoulders again, and limped the few yards over to the boulder. Her breathing was heavy with pain, but she did not cry out even as she half-collapsed onto it, still clutching the loaf of bread.

Hiccup backed away a step, then crouched down at her feet with the cast in hand. The bruises on her foot were really coming out now, and the swelling was worse. It had probably been the net that made her fall, and he felt another pang of guilt. Nothing that he could do now but try to help her, though.

He lined up the cast with her foot, but Elsa tried to edge away, despite the obvious pain in her expression.

“Please?” Hiccup looked up at her. “It’ll help.”

“Help,” repeated Elsa carefully.

Hiccup nodded, then gave a hopeful smile. They were really going to have to figure out this language barrier. Finally, Elsa nodded as well, and he set about fitting the brace to her ankle.

Once or twice, he heard Elsa grunt with pain, and he found himself saying, “Sorry” every time her foot so much as twitched, but she let him slip the metal frame around her ankle, the other slim struts sitting on either side of her leg, and strap it into place with the leather. It looked a little bit like the casts that Gothi made, and a little bit more like the frames that people used when they lost an arm or leg. He had figured it was going to have to do a job somewhere between the two until her foot healed.

By the time that he looked up, Elsa was finishing off the last of the loaf of bread, and risking a hopeful glance towards him. Smiling, Hiccup produced a second loaf from the bag, along with some dried fish that hopefully wasn’t too hard and a lump of cheese that he’d trimmed the mould off. Stoick and Gobber would probably both presume that the other one had eaten it.

“ _Ei tiikos_ ,” she said, and he was pretty sure he recognised the words from when she had thanked him before, “Hiccup.”

“It’s no problem.” Sort of the least he could do, when he was responsible for the broken foot. “Hey, can I ask you something?” And he had been doing so well on not asking stupid questions, as well. Hiccup used the point of his knife to sketch an outline of the island on the ground between them, with the mountains separating the smaller area of Berk from the larger lands of Arendelle. “Are you from here?”

He pointed to the centre of the map, and Elsa frowned at him. “Berk,” said Hiccup, indicating the northern end, then gesturing to himself. “I come from Berk.” He indicated the southern end. “Arendelle. Wildlands.” He used the hilt of the knife to point to Elsa. “You come from the Wildlands?”

Elsa looked over the map again, then used her good foot to point first to Arendelle, then to the centre of the island. “Arendelle. _Maruloet_. I come from...” she paused, and gestured to both again with her foot as she took another bite of the cheese.

“Both?” said Hiccup softly, sitting back.

Nobody knew how many wildlings there were. Once or twice, people who had gone into the Wildlands to hunt or to explore had claimed that they had seen settlements, but they had never been able to find them again. Hiccup was pretty sure that the largest group ever seen around Berk had been four. The result of that was that nobody knew where they were from; where or even whether they were born was a frequent source of debate on cold winter nights.

There was no magic in Berk. Nobody had it, not even Gothi, and though Stoick had not wanted to talk to Hiccup about it, Gobber had said that he had never known anyone with magic in any of the places he had travelled to before settling down on Berk.

Could the wildlings be from Arendelle? No, that was ridiculous. Arendelle folk wore fancy clothes – impractical ones, as well, utterly unsuited to the rough and tough of life. They used covered carriages to get around, and hardly knew what to do with a dragon if one did get that far south. And Hiccup knew some Arendellen, as the chief’s son, and though what Elsa spoke had the same sounds it was not Arendellen. And Arendelle always denied that they had anything to do with the wildlings, as hotly as Berk did. If anything, more so.

Perhaps too hotly.

“ _Omiit sonat taam_?” said Elsa, snapping him out of his thoughts. She was holding up the last bit of cheese and nodding towards it. “ _Taam_?”

“Cheese?” Hiccup figured that she wouldn’t much care about the fact it came from yaks. “Just... cheese.”

“Cheese,” Elsa said, fixing the piece with such a fierce look that it almost made Hiccup laugh. There was something almost challenging about it. She held up the bread in turn. “ _Lokeip_?”

“Bread. Look, we should probably try some verbs to go with those nouns,” he said. His knees were starting to ache from crouching down, as well, and it was a relief to stand up. He held out one hand towards her again. “And see whether that brace helps at all. Come on, give it a try.”

Elsa produced a rag to wrap around her hand again before letting Hiccup help her to her feet. She still limped heavily on the way back up to the tent, but her breathing was less harsh, and the ice thawed around her feet as she made her way back up. A couple of low rocks close to the fire had pieces of leather on them, and Hiccup guessed that they were seats or tables or something, and let Elsa sit down on one.

The fire itself had obviously been out a long time. The ring of stones surrounded a small, damp pile of ash, and there was no wood anywhere in sight. Perhaps Elsa had been stealing from their wood stores to survive as well.

The morning involved an increasing amount of miming as they tried to express words to each other. Once or twice, Hiccup felt the air grow colder as frustration knitted Elsa’s brow, but then they would find some way around and it would grow warmer again. He might have to start bringing a cloak if he was going to be doing this regularly, though.

But Elsa was _fast_ at picking up words. She watched Hiccup’s lips closely as he spoke, repeated new words as if she was finding the shape of them, and remembered everything that he had said the day before.

“Keep going like this,” he muttered at one point, “your Northur will be better than Snotlout’s before Snoggletog.”

Elsa just looked at him curiously, and said: “Snotlout?”

It took a long time for him to be able to stop laughing after that.

 

 

 

 

 

The sun was making an attempt to peek in through the top of the sinkhole when he remembered that he was supposed to be at the smithy for midday. Apologising profusely, Hiccup jumped to his feet, then thought to grab a couple of the old, chipped pots Elsa had and take them down to the pool to fill them up. She started to protest until he reached the edge, and when he glanced round she was looking relieved.

“Tomorrow?” said Elsa. He nodded. When he put the water down beside her, she out and touched his arm with her wrapped-up hand. “Hiccup. You’re welcome.”

It took him a moment. “Thank you,” he blurted out, and paused just long enough to give her what he hoped was a reassuring smile before almost running back down the tunnel and scrambling to the surface.

Gobber was waiting in the smithy with a pair of tongs on his left arm and a dubious expression. He looked over Hiccup, from his muddy knees to his scraped knuckles where he had been climbing out of the tunnel, and just shook his head.

“I’m not even going to ask. Now, apron on. Weather-vane for Jorgensen needs finishing, we’ve some tools need fixing, and the Nuts need their helmets strengthening again.”

“Yes, sir,” said Hiccup, grabbing his apron off the wall. “Jorgensen’s vain, Nuts need fixing, tools for making helmets. Got it.”

For a moment, Gobber gave him a long wordless look, then shook his head again and gave him a shove in the general direction of the bellows.

 

 

 

 

 

After the smaller jobs of the day were sorted, they set about breaking down the old doorframe from the Gronckle cage. The last one had gone out of control, and in the ensuing struggle had needed to be killed. The metal of the door had not survived it. It was already dark by the time that they had separated the last of the wood from the twisted metal lumps that remained.

“And there’s also _this_ ,” said Gobber, gesturing towards the door. “Come see what the new Gronckle threw up.”

“Do I have to?” Hiccup was already sweaty, dirty and tired. Gronckle vomit was not at the top of his to-do list for the evening, although a bath in front of the fire was rapidly heading that way. Changing his clothes, at the very least.

“I think you’ll be pleasantly surprised.”

With a shrug, Hiccup gamely followed Gobber out and round the side of the shop. One of Gobber’s handcarts was waiting there, a sheet thrown over the top. Gobber drew it back to show a lump of very shiny metal.

“Huh.” Hiccup reached out and poked it, for lack of anything more scientific to do. It rocked in place. “Feels pretty light.”

“Yeah, I figured as such,” said Gobber. “But it’s certainly a looker of a metal. Thought you might want to knock it about a bit when you’re working one of these evenings. Never know what you might make.”

“Might look good for ceremonial stuff, I suppose,” he offered. “Especially if you put a good shine on it.”

Gobber clapped him on the back. “Exactly. I leave it to that mysterious brain of yours to come up with something. Now, I’m going to head home and see that your father hasn’t managed to set fire to the sourdough or anything of the sort.”

That had been just the once, and Stoick refused to acknowledge that it had happened at all, but Gobber did not forget. Hiccup couldn’t help feeling a little better about some of his own horror stories when fortified by the knowledge that Stoick had at least one thing that he couldn’t do. Even if that thing was cooking.

“Say, Gobber?” called Hiccup, just as Gobber was about to head back into the forge. Gobber stuck his head back round the corner of the building. “Do you mind if I go rock-hounding tomorrow? I’m still working on the middle grades.”

Gobber scratched his chin with his hook, a manoeuvre that made Hiccup want to wince every time that he saw it. “I was planning to edge some new axes, but I’ve got some cold work can be done, and Stoick wanted to have a word about raising some sort of fences against the wildlings. ‘Sides, we’re still putting our heads together over what to give the Berserkers as our half of the treaty next year. Osvald does like his ceremonial stuff. Say, if you can figure out how to work this Gronckle vomit, that might impress him some.”

“Yeah, it might. Though we... might want to come up with a new name for it,” Hiccup suggested.

“Eh, suit yourself. And don’t forget to clean up for the night.”

With that, he left Hiccup to his thoughts and the lumps of Gronckle vomit. Even thinking those words made Hiccup feel just a little bit grubbier. Gronckles tended to spew up something more similar to lava than to true fire, and they had been seen over the years eating rocks, but nobody was sure whether they used the rocks just for the fire or somehow used them as actual food as well.

Hiccup picked up one of the smaller lumps. It really was light, more so than iron or even pottery. It was probably more like wood, and not even a particularly dense ash. More like the pines from up the mountain. But it was highly reflective, even unpolished. Maybe Osvald the Agreeable would like a new mirror; this stuff would definitely take a higher polish than bronze or copper. Hiccup could already see a distorted reflection of himself in it, like looking at a person through one of the lumps of glass that sometimes washed up on the beach.

But first he had the shop to clean up, which involved hanging up a few of Gobber’s hands that he kept down here as well. Tucking the piece of Gronckle... metal into one of the pouches on his belt, Hiccup started to take off his leather apron and make his way back inside. Charcoal dust wasn’t going to clean up itself.

 

 

 

 

 

In the end, he was lucky enough to escape the house the next morning after only one question – that being why he was taking so much food from the pantry. The comment that he was a growing boy only got a mutter of, ‘We can but hope’ from Stoick, and Hiccup fled the house before anything more could be said, bag over his arm as he went. It was probably a good thing that his father hadn’t seen him picking up small bits of firewood just a few minutes before.

Elsa was waiting for him this time, not just outside her tent but actually sitting on the trollwort net. She had a knife in one hand, but it looked pretty rusted, and he guessed that she was trying to sharpen it with the stone in her other hand rather than just produce grating sounds that pained Hiccup’s ears. She didn’t startle when she saw him this time, but her gaze was still wary. Well, he supposed that if some stranger had taken such an interest in him, he would have thought it weird as well. Hopefully before too long he would be able to explain that he had just wanted to help.

He had also scooped up an old pail with a broken handle from outside the smithy, where it had been abandoned in the presumption that somebody would want it once it was fixed, and filled it up from the stream before joining her where she sat.

“Good morning,” he said, setting down the water. They’d managed to establish that one the previous day.

“Good morning. How...” she paused for a moment, then spoke very precisely, “are you doing?”

“I’m good,” replied Hiccup. “Got you some breakfast, and first...” he handed over a bar of soap, still wrapped in a water lily leaf. “For you.”

At first, Elsa frowned, accepting the soap and unwrapping it with a look of confusion on her face. She ran her thumb over the surface, then rubbed thumb and forefinger together, and realisation dawned.

“Soap,” said Hiccup, as Elsa slowly smiled. It was quite nice to see. She went to hand it back to him, but he raised his hands. “No, keep it. It’s for you.”

Either he’d been better in teaching cases than he thought he had, or his tone of voice was once again enough. Elsa eagerly began washing her hands in the basin, wiping off streaks of mud to reveal pale skin beneath. There were scars on the backs of her hands. She washed up to the elbow, apparently oblivious to the water running off and dripping onto her clothes, and it was only as she leant forwards to put her face over the bucket that she shifted her leg and paused with a flinch. She looked over to Hiccup almost guiltily.

“It’s fine,” said Hiccup, trying to sound reassuring. He produced a linen towel out of the bag as well. It had been meant to be repurposed for rags at the smithy, but probably wasn’t going to be missed.

“You’re welcome,” said Elsa softly, putting the towel over her knee. She pulled the bucket closer to her, rather than trying to move the other way around, and started washing her face as well. Hiccup sat back on his heels and looked around the little camp once again, largely trying not to stare at Elsa. The water was getting pretty dirty by the time that she finished and looked up cautiously, looking a little bit younger and a lot less like a wildling. Her hair, where streaks were now cleaner, was actually an even brighter blonde than he had realised, almost white.

“So,” he said, producing his haul of the pantry from before Stoick had caught him rummaging. “Breakfast?”

 

 

 

 

 

Elsa was an almost frighteningly fast learner. She was already putting together words and verbs, although she still spoke in the present tense. She put a stick into the ground and made markings around it to indicate time, and started pointing over her shoulder or in front of her to talk about the past and future.

“When I am small,” she gestured behind her, “I live in Arendelle. But I can ice. In Arendelle, I can not. I am...” she held up her hands, fingers outstretched.

“Eight?” said Hiccup in disbelief. Elsa nodded.

“I am eight, I am in Wildlands.”

“How long were you in the Wildlands?” asked Hiccup. Elsa cocked her head. “Now. How old are you?” Again, Elsa counted on her hands, first all ten fingers outstretched and then her hands with the thumbs curled in. “Eighteen? You’re eighteen now?”

Ten years in the Wildlands. Vikings would only go there for a short stretch at a time, maybe a couple of moons at the most. Most Vikings would not even brave that, and there were plenty of people from Berk who never set foot in the Wildlands. According to the stories, there were dragons living there, and other things worse than wildlings or dragons. Hiccup wasn’t sure what could fall into that category, and he didn’t much want to find out.

“How old are you?” said Elsa, catching him by surprise as she echoed back his words perfectly.

“Fourteen,” he replied. Both hands, then just the one, with only his fingers outstretched. Elsa nodded slowly, as if she was considering, then held out her hand and started counting off her fingers one at a time.

“ _Sik, kaas, olm_...”

“One, two, three...” and before long at all, they were off again exchanging words which Elsa seemed to pick up and store away as quickly as Hiccup could stack charcoal in the furnace. He wished that he had been able to learn Arendellen this quickly, although he supposed that he hadn’t sat down with nothing else to really do but learn it. Perhaps spending a day or several speaking nothing but Arendellen would help him out on that front.

This time, though, Hiccup actually had an aim for the words he was trying to teach Elsa. He had been lucky to get three days in a row that he was able to come down here, and that was not likely to keep happening. But on the other hand, Stoick had not followed through on his grumbled threats to board up Hiccup’s window. Surprising as it might have been to, well, just about anyone, Hiccup was quite capable of sneaking out at night and getting past the guards without being seen. It was all a matter of knowing where they went and when.

“I will _try_ ,” he emphasised, “to come tomorrow night.”

“Tomorrow night,” said Elsa, nodding. Hopefully she understood the try part, or at least wouldn’t be too offended if he didn’t manage.

“Is there... anything I can do to help?” said Hiccup, looking around them. It wasn’t as if he was struggling to think of things that Elsa needed. Food, clothing, a tent that didn’t look to be falling apart... but they weren’t things that he could do before heading off. He really would have to come back with some rocks, otherwise Gobber wouldn’t let him use this excuse again.

Elsa looked over to the fire, then back. There was a touch of pained pride about her expression. “The fire... please?”

“Oh, yeah, I forgot about that.” Hiccup had dumped the wood in an unceremonious pile. He now pulled out the dried leaves he had wrapped up in an old rag to use as tinder, and started arranging the smaller sticks around it. Once he had a reasonable start, he pulled his steel and flint from his belt, and it only took a moment before he had a small flame going. “You know how to make fire, right?” He gestured with the flint.

“Yes,” said Elsa. “I can fire. Not like ice–” she waved one hand, but today there had been no sign of her magic. Perhaps the net worked even better than Hiccup had thought it would. “But... make fire.” She carefully picked out the words that he had used.

“There’s... another wildling. Who has fire magic,” he said. “Like... you have ice magic. Another person? In the Wildlands?”

Elsa shook her head. “No. She is... she is not?” Now it was Hiccup’s turn to look confused. “She is _guolem_ , she...” She picked up the rusted knife and mimed slashing her throat, fast and surely enough that it made Hiccup jump. “When, she is,” Elsa gestured over her shoulder, then stabbed a finger towards the ground. “Now, she is not.”

“You... oh, you’re trying to say that she is dead.” Awkward as it was, he put some emphasis on the word so that Elsa could pick it out. “Oh. I’m sorry to hear that. Did you know her?”

Elsa looked down, shaking her head, but Hiccup wasn’t so sure that was the truth. Or how much she understood. She twisted her fingers into the trollwort net and reached down to rub her leg at the top of the ankle brace. It looked sore, but she had been flinching far less today. Grabbing at the topic, Hiccup pointed to it.

“Does that help?”

Her head snapped up, then she followed his gaze. Elsa nodded and carefully shifted her leg a few inches across. “Yes. It helps. You’re welcome.”

He was really going to have to sort that misunderstanding out at some point.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> From time to time, chapters will have endnotes. I'll try to keep them to a minimum.
> 
> The language used for the wildlings, which Elsa speaks, is a conlang very loosely based on Finnish. More of it will appear in the future as it becomes relevant to the plot and to Hiccup (and as he recognises more words of it!). The language spoken by Hiccup and the other Vikings, here called Northur, is based on Old Norse, and grammatical references which we get refer to the differences between these two languages. Puns, rhymes and alliteration may well rely on English though, because unfortunately I do not speak Old Norse that well!


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For anyone who would particularly like to see a heinously overdue author's note, it will be going up on Chapter 1 later today.

From then on, Hiccup stopped sneaking off during the day, and found himself sneaking off at night instead. It got to the point that it felt like he was exiting by the window more often than by the front door. Mercifully, the only time that he almost got caught, he was in the pantry, and Gobber just told him not to tell Stoick he was having a midnight snack. Where they thought Hiccup was putting all of the food he was supposedly eating, he did not want to know.

Elsa’s Northur continued to improve quickly; she would repeat back whole sentences that he had used, though she struggled with the gender of words and sometimes conjugated verbs in ways that did not produce an actual word. Hiccup finally managed to explain what a Snotlout was, even if it took a while.

One night, he found her using a walking stick made of ice to help as she moved around. As soon as she saw him, she looked panicked and it withered away so quickly that she stumbled. Even when Hiccup protested that it was all right, and that he was not scared of her magic, she retreated to the worn-looking trollwort net, and the flecks of ice faded from her hair.

He arrived one evening to find that she had washed her hair, and it was almost white in the moonlight. Not long after that, he overheard Astrid’s mother, Runa, commenting that Astrid had outgrown one of her shirts, but that it had been second-hand anyway and wasn’t good for much nowadays.

“I’ll take it,” he volunteered, from beyond the window of the smithy. Both Astrid and her mother turned; Astrid looked faintly horrified, her mother just perturbed. “I mean, you said it wasn’t good for much. We always need rags at the smithy.”

Three days later, after word had gotten round that the smithy was looking for rags, Gobber looked at the basket of old clothing outside the door and scratched his chin. “Not that I’m complaining, Hiccup,” he said, “but we’ve got enough rags to stuff a yak.”

“Better safe than sorry?” Hiccup offered.

Gobber responded by tossing the top piece of clothing in his direction. Unfortunately for Hiccup, Gobber still had a very good aim; more unfortunately, it was a pair of floral-embroidered underpants that landed firmly on his head. At least Gobber got a good laugh out of that one.

 

 

 

 

 

“The sailing season’s closing,” said Stoick grimly over dinner one evening. To be fair, Stoick often spoke grimly, but Hiccup still kept a wary ear out for it. “If we’re going to find Dragon Island before winter closes in, it’ll need to be soon.”

There had been another attack three nights ago. The lost food was a frustration; the funeral the next day had been a far darker sight. Stoick had been stewing in anger ever since, and Hiccup probably should have expected that it would end like this.

“It’s dangerous to go sailing this late in the season, Stoick, you know that,” said Gobber. It was clear from his voice that he wasn’t really arguing, though; he already knew that Stoick would go, Stoick knew it as well, and he was just voicing the warning because that was what he had to do. “Not all those boats come back.”

Stoick stabbed his mutton hard enough for both Hiccup and the mugs of water on the table to jump. “We’ve lost enough to them. I’ll not have it continuing like this. While I’m gone, I want you training the next wave of recruits.”

“That’d be, what, the Thorston twins?” said Gobber. He started counting on his remaining fingers. “Spitelout’s lad, what is it, Phlegmlout?”

“Snotlout,” supplied Hiccup automatically, even though he knew full well that Gobber was teasing when he pretended not to know the name of Hiccup’s cousin.

“Snotlout, that’s the one. Astrid Hofferson, good lass, and Fishlegs Ingerman.” He looked at his hand, all fingers outstretched, and nodded. “Huh, one handful exactly. Sounds fair enough.”

All of them were within about seven moons of each other in age. There had been fewer children born for some years, around fifteen to twenty years ago now, the result of a particularly bad few years of dragon attacks. But they weren’t the only ones from that age range.

“And me, right?” said Hiccup. Both Stoick and Gobber looked round, their expressions unreadable just yet. Gobber fiddled with his fake tooth, while Stoick examined Hiccup’s hair minutely. “I’m the same age as Fishlegs; I’m older than the others. If they’re training, then I should be as well!”

“Hiccup,” said Stoick. “I’m not sure... well, you see...”

“What your Dad’s trying to say, Hiccup,” began Gobber, but Stoick raised a hand and he felt quiet.

“I’m not sure it’s the best idea for you to go into the dragon training arena, Hiccup. Training or not, dragons are very dangerous creatures, and they’re not tame.”

He had a feeling that he knew where this was going, and he didn’t like it any more now than he had last time. Hiccup threw down his knife and spoon. “Which is exactly why you should be training me to deal with them. I mean, what, you’re going to put the _twins_ in the arena? They can start a fight with half a sandwich!” Had, in fact, not all that long ago. “At least I’m not going to start trying to kill the other trainees!”

“Hiccup, not everyone is made for killing dragons,” said Stoick.

On the one hand, Hiccup would actually give him credit for attempting to say that nicely. On the other, though, was the fact that this was Berk. “Dad, I can name all three people on the island over twenty who haven’t killed a dragon.”

“Look, I don’t want you getting yourself hurt–” Stoick began to say, only for Gobber to interrupt.

“How about you come learn about keeping up the arena, instead?”

Both Hiccup and Stoick turn to look at him, with what Hiccup realised were probably quite similar looks of complete bewilderment. “Wh- what did you say?” said Hiccup, because apparently being the first one to make his mouth work didn’t actually mean that he was going to say anything sensible with it.

“You’ve been talking about my getting an apprentice up there, Stoick,” said Gobber. “I think Hiccup would be perfect for the job. He and I already work well together, after all.”

Which was to say, Hiccup had more patience for taking orders from Gobber than he did for just about anyone else on Berk, and he actually genuinely enjoyed working at the forge now that he was doing something more than carrying charcoal and working the bellows. It was like giving his brain a workout, an opportunity which seemed sadly rare around the village at times.

“Gobber,” growled Stoick. Clearly that hadn’t been the way that _he_ had been expecting this to go, either.

“Dogsbreath can mind the forge for a while. With you folks off viking, there’ll only be small jobs to do around town.”

Hiccup could almost see the cogs turning in his father’s head. He had three options – to allow Hiccup to train to fight dragons like the others, to expect Hiccup to run the forge while Gobber was doing the training, or let Hiccup apprentice in caring for the arena and hopefully not get himself killed. On the one hand, the forge was generally safer than dragons. On the other hand, being at the arena would keep Hiccup under Gobber’s watchful eye.

Before Stoick could speak, though, he felt his treacherous mouth open and heard himself talking. “Wow, Gobber, that sounds like an amazing idea. I mean, how many people get to say that they _care_ for the dragons, eh?”

To be honest, all three of them at the table knew that if anyone had won this argument, it had been Gobber. But Stoick looked from one to the other, then drained his mug and set it down heavily on the table. “All right, then. The others train to fight the dragons, you help Gobber with the upkeep of the arena. But I don’t want you throwing yourself in harm’s way.”

“Would I do that?” asked Hiccup. Both men looked at him pointedly. “Don’t answer that.”

After all, with so many of the men off fighting, and Gobber and Dogsbreath most likely to watch the forge next time there was an attack, there wasn’t going to be anyone to stop him from trying out those bolas on which he was working. And, to be more precise, the machine which he had been designing for a while which should allow him to bring down a dragon without having to so much as raise a weapon.

But he wasn’t going to mention that part aloud.

 

 

 

 

 

The boats left three days later. It wasn’t the first time that Stoick had gone out with them – far from it – but there was something darker and angrier in his gaze than there had been before, and Hiccup was not quite sure what to make of it. He went down to the wharves to say farewell, but the Viking way of saying farewell mostly involved clapping each other on the shoulder and manly hugs, and it wasn’t really something that Hiccup was very good at.

“Take care of Gobber,” said his father, with a heavy pat on the shoulder. Hiccup managed not to stagger sideways.

“And... take care of your crew,” Hiccup replied.

Then the ships were gone, and Gobber patted him rather more carefully on the shoulder. Which was a good thing, considering Hiccup was standing on his left and was therefore being patted with the hook. Hiccup wanted to stay to watch the ships leave, as he usually did, but it looked like he wasn’t going to get the chance.

“Come on, then, up the arena. Kids’ll be joining us at midday, so we need to get everything sorted before then. We’re starting with the Gronckle.”

 

 

 

 

 

Hiccup had seen Gronckles before. They were one of the more common dragon species around the archipelago, big lumpy things where it was hard to tell the head and the rear apart if its eyes weren’t open. The one that they had at the arena had not even been there a moon, though, and that one Hiccup had not seen.

It turned out that this one was mostly orange, with a purplish edge to its warts. “Haven’t gotten close enough to see if it’s male or female yet,” said Gobber. Before Hiccup could even attempt to banish the visual, he continued: “I’d rather check, make sure we don’t end up with any eggs. The buggers’re explosive, give you a nasty shock if you don’t get them out of the way quick enough.”

“I’m sure that it’ll calm down enough eventually,” said Hiccup. “This is the one that gave us the... Gronckle iron, right?”

“Gronckle iron. Not bad. Yes, this is the one. Hasn’t produced any more, sadly, yet at least.” Gobber dropped the trapdoor that he was holding, the route by which – he had explained – the dragons were fed on a daily basis. Less work than opening the doors each time. “Come on, let’s get down into the arena, and you help me get that muzzle off.”

The muzzle in question was a heavy leather band around the Gronckle’s snout, with doubled metal clasps to keep it in place. “Take it off?” Hiccup looked up abruptly, but Gobber was already heading down the stairs on the outside of the arena, and Hiccup had to run to catch up with him.

Perhaps his father had been right. At least if he were fighting the dragons, he would actually have access to a weapon. Gobber wandered on over to one of the doors, readying to haul on the lever that would open it up.

“Well, it’s no good leaving the poor bugger not able to shoot while the trainees are up. Ah, it’s good to have a second person to help with this.” Gobber gave a pleased sigh, and Hiccup hurried to stand alongside him. “Right, I’ll get his attention, you snap the buckles. A good hard rap on each should do it. Then just get back out again. Got it?”

He was wondering whether this was the best way to introduce him to being an apprentice, as well as starting to feel concerned with what exactly Gobber had planned for the others

But at least it got him into the arena, and around dragons, Hiccup supposed.

“Got it,” he said.

Gobber hauled on the lever, and the great wooden bar across the lintel was winched up. Its wings burred into action; it was large enough that the metal bars around the arena would stop its flight, and did not need to have its wings cut like the Terrible Terror did. Hiccup had heard about that in rather too much detail when it had happened. The metal doors burst open as the Gronckle made a bid for freedom, but Gobber jumped in front of it with his arms spread wide and a grin on his face.

“Come on, you knobbly beast. You’ll not be getting one over on me!”

With a stifled roar, the Gronckle lurched forwards. Hiccup threw himself aside, but Gobber stood firm, swinging his hook into the corner of the Gronckle’s mouth and hauling it sideways. The Gronckle’s wings beat furiously, but Gobber gave it a sharp tug and it almost crashed to the ground.

“Come on, Hiccup!”

Oh, that would be his cue. Lava was bubbling out of the corner of the Gronckle’s mouth and splattering on the hard-packed earth floor, and it tried to thrash its head back and forth but could not with Gobber’s hook firmly wedged in place. Hiccup grabbed his knife, sheath and all, and undid the knot on his belt to slip it off. His leggings fit well enough that they wouldn’t fall down. His heart pounded in his chest as he jumped in, bringing down the butt of his dagger first on one of the metal clasps, then the other.

They fell free, and the Gronckle roared approval. Its mouth opened, and for a moment all that Hiccup could see was the shining teeth, the forked pink tongue, and the glowing light in the depths of the Gronckle’s throat. He had just about enough time to manage the one clear thought that this was going to be a hugely embarrassing way to get himself killed, then with a roar of his own Gobber hurled the Gronckle back into its pen.

It bounced off the back wall, and while it was still shaking its head Gobber threw the metal doors closed and flung down the lever again. The wooden beam fell back into place.

Hiccup realised that he was still clutching his knife and breathing hard. His knees felt like they weren’t quite there. He couldn’t bring himself to stop staring at the centre of the Gronckle’s door. It wasn’t quite fear, or at least it wasn’t the sort of fear that would stop him from doing anything; there was a rush in there as well, a sort of thrill. Being around dragons was _amazing_.

“Marvellous,” said Gobber approvingly. He scooped up the muzzle and thrust it in Hiccup’s direction. Hiccup grabbed the muzzle with one hand and his belt with the other, and hoped that he would manage to keep enough control of his fingers to manage to not get the two tangled up together. “Right, let’s get the weapons out, then. Want a good selection, to see what they’ll pick up. What weapon someone goes for first is a sign of the sort of person they are.”

“Really,” said Hiccup. He’d meant for it to be a question, but it was all that he could do not to make it a squeak. He did up his belt, then realised that he’d managed to get the muzzle looped around it and had to try again. Second time lucky.

“Oh, yes. Me, I’m a mace sort of man, but a good starting weapon is a shield. Offence and defence in one. Come on, lots of work to be doing.”

Work for dragons. Hiccup’s head was swimming, and his heart was still beating fast. But it felt brilliant, and he actually grinned as he followed Gobber over to a door which was not barred and therefore hopefully did not have a dragon on the far side of it.

 

 

 

 

 

He was sweeping out some of the leaves which had blown into the arena – a job which sounded ridiculous until Gobber pointed out that leaves were flammable, and he didn’t fancy piles of kindling lying about – when the others arrived.

“You know what would be awesome?” He’d recognise Tuffnut’s voice anywhere. “Like, if a dragon could set itself on fire _and_ be underwater.”

“Er, wouldn’t the water put the fire out?”

The voice of reason, otherwise known as Fishlegs. Hiccup got on marginally better with Fishlegs than he did with any of the other Berkians his age, which was to say that they mostly ignored each other and Fishlegs didn’t use Hiccup as any sort of target. It had worked out pretty well so far.

“Well, duh,” said Ruffnut. “That’s why he said it _would_ be awesome.”

“Yeah, but it’d be hard to fight them if they were underwater,” said Snotlout. “Like, there’s only so much water you can cover with a ship. Whereas while they’re on land... _wham_!”

Hiccup had no doubt at all that Snotlout had just slashed thin air with an axe.

“They’re right within your reach,” the boy finished.

“I suppose if you got a hot enough burn–” began another voice, and Hiccup remembered with a jolt that Astrid was among the new trainees. He considered a quick prayer to Thor to not screw up today, but considering how well such prayers normally went decided not to bother and just kept sweeping. “Hiccup? What are you doing here?”

Sadly, it seemed that having a broom did not actually make him invisible. Hiccup turned, smiled and waved, and the group gave him the most sceptical looks that he’d seen since, well, his father heard the suggestion for him to train here.

“Just... getting the arena ready for you,” he said. “It doesn’t clean itself, after all.”

“Are you _training_?” said Snotlout. Hiccup actually hadn’t been aware that the younger boy had been able to fit that much incredulity into just three words.

Before he could arrange for an answer to make its way to his mouth, he was interrupted by the arrival of Gobber. Because what he needed now was for it to look like he was just relying on his fathers.

“Hiccup’s going to be learning how to run the arena while you lot are running around training,” said Gobber. Oh, so Astrid could look even more disbelieving. That was good to know. “Now, let’s focus on what we’re supposed to be focusing on, shall we? We’re not here to learn to fight Hiccup.”

“Don’t put ideas in their heads,” muttered Hiccup as the others turned away. He was under no illusion to the fact that he would look like a much easier fight than a dragon, mostly because he was. He finished sweeping the leaves towards the wooden wheelbarrow set aside for them, and glanced round just in time to see Gobber walking from door to door and briefly describing the different types of dragon.

They knew it. They _all_ knew it, the common types of dragon that they had at the arena and some of the rarer ones that only showed up from time to time. Sure, it was probably only the basics – matching names to appearances, and which ones were hardest to kill – but Gobber couldn’t exactly be telling them any more just at the moment.

“Hiccup, close that gate after you,” shouted Gobber, just as he was about to leave. Hiccup saluted by way of agreement, pushed the barrow up the slope to park it outside – the leaves would go for mulching later, to be spread on the fields – and hurried back inside, closing the gate behind him.

As he did so, Gobber threw open the door to the Gronckle cage again. Maybe he’d meant for Hiccup to be _outside_ the gate when it was closed.

The Gronckle lurched out of the cage with a roar, lava spilling from the corners of its mouth. There was a scramble for shields, punctuated by Ruffnut and Tuffnut bickering over the ones with the skulls on it.

“Six shot limit!” declared Gobber, his voice carrying around the arena. “One each for you, and a spare for me. We’re starting with defence, in case you haven’t noticed. And the best defence is not getting hit.”

“That’s not a tactic, that’s an aim!” shouted Snotlout, who already had a shield and a good head start on running away from the Gronckle. It was probably a good thing that the dragon didn’t seem to know who to attack first, otherwise things would probably be going wrong much more quickly than this.

Astrid, also carrying a shield, moved past Hiccup with her eyes locked on the dragon. “Are you really supposed to be here?” she said as she went past.

Hiccup looked over at the shields, which were by now closer to the dragon than they were to him. “Yeah, that’s a pretty good question.”

At which point the Gronckle apparently spotted one or both of them, and came barrelling towards them. Astrid dived away, leaving Hiccup right in the dragon’s path, and once again he thought that yes, this was going to be a very embarrassing way to die indeed.

“Oh, Thor.”

He ran in the opposite direction from Astrid, as fast as his legs could carry him. By the sounds of the roaring and slavering, the Gronckle was not all that far behind him. He hit the pile of shields still running, grabbed one without caring one whit _what_ was on it, and kept going as best he could while trying to manoeuvre the blasted thing onto his back. _Something_ hit him, sending him staggering sideways, and judging by the smell of singed hair that had indeed been one of the Gronckle’s six shots.

“Hiccup!” Oh, great, so Gobber had managed to figure out who was on which side of the gate as well. “What are you doing in here?”

“Getting fired at, apparently,” said Tuffnut. The Gronckle turned at the sound of his voice and fired a blast in his direction. Tuffnut’s eyes went wide, and he raised his shield just in time to take the full force of the blast against it. The force of it was enough was enough to throw him backwards into Ruffnut, and they fell to the ground in an ungainly tangle.

“Ruffnut, Tuffnut, you’re out!” barked Gobber. “In the armoury. The door with the axe painted on it!” he added, as they looked at each other in clear bewilderment.

“We have a whole armoury?” Snotlout looked round with increasing interest, until a fireball came close enough to spin his helmet around on his head. At which point he changed his mind and went for a scream instead.

Gobber was almost audibly rolling his eyes. “Snotlout, you’re out!”

Hiccup wrangled his shield back round to his front again, noting in passing that at least it was only a little bit singed, and none of the metalwork would need replacing. That was the blacksmith in him, he guessed, and a completely inappropriate time to be even thinking about that. He got his arm into the straps and peered over the top of the metal at the Gronckle, which now had fewer targets and, Hiccup was starting to suspect, shorter nerves. There was a clang from inside the armoury, and a shout of “Hey!” from one of the twins.

“Whatever you’re doing, stop that!” bellowed Gobber.

All right, thought Hiccup, trying not to feel as if his ankles were about to give way beneath him. All they had left was Astrid, Fishlegs and himself. Well, technically he wasn’t in on this anyway, and if he had been then he would already be out now that he’d been hit. All that he had to do was get to the armoury without getting killed by one little Gronckle, and he would be fine.

 _Why_ had he ever wanted to kill dragons? One Gronckle was definitely not little, especially not as it vomited lava across the arena floor just to provide another obstacle because this day was not ridiculous enough.

“Hiccup, get in that armoury!” Gobber added . “Before you’re out here so long that the bugger recharges his six shots again!”

“Actually, sir, that would take at least several hours–”

Apparently, if Fishlegs stood still long enough to point out Gobber’s hyperbole, it was long enough for the Gronckle to turn and fire one neat shot in his direction. Four down, which with any luck made him two-thirds less likely to die in the next few minutes. But on the other hand there was only Astrid left in the arena otherwise, and to be honest if Hiccup was a dragon he would not try to attack Astrid first. Even with just a shield, she was probably about ready to take on a Gronckle or any other type of dragon foolish enough to get in her way.

“Fishlegs, out! Well done, Astrid.” Gobber marched over from where he was standing, only to be cut off by an ear-splitting cacophony from the inside of the armoury, punctuated by a short girly scream. Which only really meant that it wasn’t Ruffnut. Rolling his eyes, Gobber stopped and turned around again. “And what in the name of Loki’s silk skivvies are you lot up to in there?”

The Gronckle wheeled around at the sound of Gobber’s bellow, and Hiccup was close enough to see its eyes narrow dangerously. Oh, Thor. Sure, Gobber had a lifetime of experience around dragons, but he didn’t have a lifetime of experience with the twins, Snotlout and Fishlegs.

“Gobber!” he shouted, just as Astrid yelled, “Hey, you! Over here!”

She had grabbed Hiccup’s broom from where he had left it by the door, and was slamming it against her shield as she actually advanced towards the Gronckle. The Gronckle swung about, moving for all the world like a small boat being piloted by a large, drunk Viking, then shuddered and shook its head as she got closer.

“That’s right!” Astrid yelled. “Back up!”

“That’s supposed to be lesson two,” said Gobber, but he didn’t sound too angry about it. He hooked up a shield, swapped it to his good hand, and starting to clatter his hook against it as well. Hiccup was more concerned for the first moment by the definite sensation of his teeth rattling in his jaw, until he realised that the Gronckle was being driven back in his direction.

Except for that the Gronckle’s pen was right behind him. Probably not in _his_ direction specifically, then. Hiccup gave up on the shield, threw it aside, and backed up until he was alongside the giant metal lever that had been used to open the gates in the first place. Astrid and Gobber continued banging on their shields until the Gronckle was almost within reach, then with a bellow Gobber lunched forwards and smacked the Gronckle on the nose, sending it back into the pen. He grabbed the door nearer to him, and Astrid went for the other without even having to be asked.

Hiccup hauled on the lever. Then hauled harder, because Berk’s climate was excellent for encouraging rust and the blasted thing refused to move. Only as his full weight came on the lever did it shriek its way closed, and the wooden log fell down into place with a boom that almost outweighed the sounds of the Gronckle inside.

“Sounds like someone’s not happy,” said Gobber. “I’ll let him have a fly about later today, waste his shots. Right, you lot can come out now!” he hollered in the armoury’s general direction. The twins’ heads popped around the door, followed swiftly by Snotlout. Fishlegs seemed to have a slightly better sense of self-preservation and did not immediately appear.

Astrid was standing right next to him. Hiccup wasn’t sure that he had ever been in this situation, and found himself staring as she folded her arms and cocked her hips, waiting for the others to emerge. When she noticed him, her eyes hardened. “What?”

“Well... looks like I survived,” he tried to joke.

“You got hit first,” said Astrid.

“I was... actually talking about surviving.” It ended up being said mostly to himself as Astrid walked away to join the others. Hiccup sighed, rubbing the back of his neck where there might have been a burn from the edge of the fireball. Another great day in the life.

Then the door bucked behind him, and he hastily stepped away. Not that he didn’t trust Gobber’s metalwork; he just didn’t trust it to play nicely with the Berk weather. Learning to fight dragons probably looked more attractive in winter, when being in a small space with a fire-breathing reptile was probably the most efficient way on the island to get warm. Right now, though, it looked like a fine way to get roasted.

He had probably better start doing something useful with himself. The Gronckle lava was still red-hot, and wouldn’t be cool enough to move for another few hours, but at least the shields everywhere could do with gathering up. On the far side of the arena, Gobber started to explain to the teens about his and Astrid’s use of the shields to create a rhythmic noise to disorientate the dragons. Astrid had probably picked that up from her family, Hiccup figured; both her parents were excellent dragon-hunters, and her mother had once even caught a wildling. Not that it outweighed the whole thing with the Frightmare and her uncle, but it at least went some way to restoring them in the eyes of most of Berk.

“...the fobs on the shields are designed to increase the effect, but in an emergency, even clattering one axe against another can do...”

Ruffnut’s shield was on fire. Hiccup rolled his eyes and went to grab one of the buckets placed around the arena for this very purpose. He was supposed to have filled them with water this morning, but after the rain overnight they hadn’t really needed it.

It was always worth count the blessings about living on Berk. It wasn’t exactly as if there were too many of them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In the _How to Train Your Dragon_ books, Snotlout's father (Baggybum) is Stoick's younger brother, making Hiccup and Snotlout first cousins. In the fic, they will be second cousins, to keep the family tie.
> 
> Dogsbreath the Duhbrain is another book character, but I've honestly taken the name and nothing else.
> 
> Astrid's mother presumably exists, but the name I have created for her is original.


	4. Chapter 4

By the time that Hiccup climbed out of the window that night, he could definitely feel the burns on the back of his neck, and he was more tired than he usually was even after a full day at the forge. He almost fell the last few feet when climbing down into the tunnels, and yawned hugely as he padded into the firelit sinkhole.

“Elsa? You awake?”

“I am here,” she replied. Hiccup had to squint against the fire, but as he drew closer he realised that Elsa had taken down her lean-to and was busily rolling it up around the other few things that she owned. “Are you well?”

“Well, I met a dragon, so that made for an interesting day. Er, what are you doing?”

Elsa paused and looked up, but only echoed, “Dragon?”

It wasn’t exactly a word that had come up so far. Hiccup flapped his arms in demonstration. “Reptile. Wings. Fire.” He mimed something billowing from his lips, and apparently the notion of breathing fire was the important one because Elsa nodded and went back to her packing. Yes, that was definitely packing. “Are you going somewhere?”

“I am here too long,” said Elsa, gesturing around the cave. “There is water, but no food. And too much water.” She gestured to the wall beside them, which was indeed glisteningly damp. This sort of place couldn’t be the most comfortable to live in. “I must to take food from you.”

“But your ankle...”

Elsa gave a shrug. “Plants do not walk.”

He wasn’t sure whether he was more concerned for her or sad to lose her. Despite only sneaking here for a few hours a night, he probably spoke more to Elsa than he did to anyone at the village apart from his father or Gobber. Having to explain to Snotlout a dozen times that no, they would not make the bosses on the shield _more awesome_ by putting spikes on them, because that would make the sound it made less effective, didn’t exactly count.

And he knew that he was the only person that Elsa spoke to.

“You don’t have to go,” he said, feeling vaguely useless as she used the trollwort rope, of all things, to tie the wool of her tent around her things into a sort of pack. It was surprisingly small to be everything that she owned, enough that a healthy person could probably simply put it on their shoulder and walk around with it.

Elsa got to her feet and looked at him sadly. “If I stay? They will find,” she pointed in the direction of Berk. “They will kill. And I cannot take this food.”

As usual, Hiccup was carrying a small bundle of food taken from the larder. It was never much, just dried meat and cheese and the sort of slightly-stale bread that would not really be good to eat the next day, but was all right when it was toasted. “Well, there’re plenty of people off viking,” he said, voice as light as he could manage. “We’ve got so many fewer people than usual that we’d be getting fat if we ate their share as well.” He was hoping for at least a chuckle, but Elsa still wore the same, sad smile.

“I must to go,” she repeated.

“Look,” said Hiccup, “at least let me help you make a camp. You can’t carry that,” he gestured to her pack, “and you’ll need a cane if you want to go anywhere. It’s not even been a moon, and I have no idea whether you should be walking yet at all.”

Elsa looked at him closely, and he realised that he had been talking very quickly and probably not clearly at all. He sighed.

“I will help find a place for you,” he said. And that finally earnt him a smile.

 

 

 

 

 

Elsa must have been stronger than she looked to climb out of the tunnel the way that she did. She had one of the old cloths that Hiccup had bought to her wrapped over her hair, which was probably a good idea considering it was nearly the full moon. But her face was still drawn with pain by the time that Hiccup climbed out after her, and she didn’t seem to notice the scratches on her hands from the firethorn bush.

“Hang on,” said Hiccup, putting down the pack again. Elsa frowned, and he held up one finger. “Wait a moment.”

The nearest house to this edge of the village was the Thorstons’, which was probably a good thing considering how much chaos the twins would probably cause in the centre. Their woodshed didn’t have a lock, and though Hiccup was squinting in the darkness he found a branch about an inch across, long enough to make a stick out of. He walked away from the house as fast as he dared, not wanting to run in case his usual luck had him fall over and make a racket, and returned to Elsa with a triumphant wave of the stick.

“This should help.” He handed it over, and Elsa tested it against her palm before pulling out her knife and scraping at the end. Tilting his head, Hiccup watched her clumsy movements, until he realised that she was trying to make it fit more comfortably in her hand. “Oh, sorry. Here, let me.”

He had done what he could to sharpen her knife, working through grades of whetstone, but there had only been so much that he could manage when the blade had long since been nocked, and when Elsa used it so frequently and with no knowledge of how to care for it properly. It was hard to explain that the lanolin from sheep’s wool would be a good way to protect it when they were still working on words like knife, steel and hilt.

When it was at the very least more rounded, he offered it back to her again, and Elsa gave him a grateful smile as she accepted it. She turned it around in her hand, testing for fit, then as her palm rolled over the surface he saw a sheet of ice form over it, smoothing it down.

“Huh,” said Hiccup, raising his eyebrows. “That’s smart.”

She looked up, seeming to catch herself, and blushed. The ice melted away and dripped to the ground. “I am sorry,” she said quickly. She had picked that phrase up so early on that Hiccup had not even realised he had taught it to her.

“No, no, don’t be!” said Hiccup. “I mean, that could be so _useful_ , you could pick up hot or sharp things with no prob–” he was still talking enthusiastically when he saw the way that Elsa was avoiding his eyes, and remembered the number of times she had sat on the trollwort rope or refused to talk about her magic by acting as if she did not know his words. “This... the ice, you don’t need to be ashamed of it, Elsa.”

He didn’t think that they’d ever used the word ashamed, but Elsa must have gathered enough because she looked up briefly with troubled eyes. “Say that when I am safe,” she replied.

An uncomfortable silence hung in the air between them, then Elsa shook her head and set the stick against the ground.

“For this, thank you. We must to go.”

There wasn’t really any good response to that, other than scooping up the pack and putting it on his shoulder. Despite the chipped ceramic pots which Hiccup had seen going in, it really was light, and even he didn’t have trouble carrying it as they slipped beyond the village and into what was officially the Wildlands.

With so many looking for Dragon Island, the patrols were fewer than usual, and though Hiccup kept his ears and eyes open he did not see anyone else as they made their way into the mixed forest that came close to the edge of the village. There were plenty of birch and alder trees closer to the village, but if they went further up into the mountains that would give way to pine and rowan. Hiccup hoped that they weren’t heading in that direction, especially if Elsa was concerned with finding somewhere that she could gather food.

The night was mild, not bad for walking, and Hiccup went slowly to match his pace to Elsa’s. Even with the cast and cane, her steps were surprisingly light, and though her features were drawn and there was ice creeping over the handle of her makeshift cane again, she did not talk about the pain which she must have been in.

“Do wildlings have to deal with dragons?” asked Hiccup, once they were beyond where the sentries usually roamed. “I mean, Arendelle doesn’t, they don’t go south of the mountains. Though they farm more wheat than keep animals. Dragons probably don’t go in for that.”

“I see dragons,” said Elsa. “Sometimes. Usually when they are at Berk, though. If they are over Wildlands, I hide.”

He thought about everyone running around with shields that morning, and retreating to the armoury once they had been hit. “Probably a good idea.”

“You fight them?” she glanced over to him, still picking her way across the ground. Hiccup glanced up at the mountains; they were heading south and east, towards the lower branch of hills that helped to separate the island into three parts. “Last night, I see...”

Hiccup waited for her to finish, but the words did not immediately come. Elsa pressed her lips together, gestured with her free hand, and mimed slashing at the air.

“Dragons,” she said. “Men. Night. Fire.”

“You saw one of the attacks?” When he had asked Elsa how long she had been in the sinkhole before he found her, she had shrugged and waved it off with ‘days’. But the night that she had been injured had been the better part of a moon ago now, and there had been several small attacks in that time. “Yeah, they happen every few days. Six days is the average, at the moment.” He had a scruffy journal hidden beneath his bed, with the dates of the attacks and which dragons were involved minutely detailed. “They take food, sheep and goats, occasionally yaks.”

“Why?”

“They’re hungry, I suppose,” said Hiccup with a shrug. That had been an early concept established.

Elsa frowned. “But you fight dragons. Must to be hard. Easier to take from land.”

There were boars in some of the lowland forests, a few deer, and plenty of fish to be found. Even if dragons couldn’t or didn’t eat the plants that grew. “Why did you come to the village?” he asked. They reached a small, rocky slope, only a few feet, but Elsa had to edge very carefully down it. “Like you said, it must be harder.”

“I am going...” she paused, mouthing something vaguely. “West. Other wildlings, in east, they attack.”

“They attacked _you_?” he said, horrified. “Because of... what? The magic?”

Elsa glanced round, but seemed hardly able to meet his eye. She nodded.

“Thor preserve us,” muttered Hiccup. To be honest, Berkians didn’t much care whether wildlings had magic or not – the one with magic were just more difficult to catch. As far as he knew, Arendelle was much the same. But Elsa had said that she came from Arendelle, right back at the beginning.

“Much wildlings,” said Elsa, “have no magic. Attack people who have it. Some do not. Some are... like you.”

Well, that was the second person in the last moon to compare him to a wildling. Strangely, it didn’t feel as much of an insult this time around as it had when Astrid had said it.

They broke free from the trees at the base of a low outcrop, maybe ten feet tall along all of the length that Hiccup could see, curving around. As they stopped at the base, Hiccup lowered the pack to the ground and rolled his shoulder as he surveyed it. “I could climb up and have a look,” he suggested, nodding to the top. “But your ankle...”

For not the first time in his life, no-one was listening. Elsa had found a low gap in the rock, maybe four feet high and two wide, which in the darkness he had thought was nothing more than a shallow cut. She slipped into it before Hiccup could say anything, and he heard the skitter of small rocks from within, and the scrape of wood on stone.

“Elsa?” Frowning, he tried to peer into the hole, but could see nothing. Maybe he should have bought a lantern along, to use once they got beyond the sentries. “Elsa, are you all right?” He heard a sharp gasp. “Oh, Loki’s arse.”

Bending down, he was just entering the tunnel when Elsa called back up: “Hiccup! Come, come!” She sounded excited, if anything, and with a frown Hiccup grabbed the pack again. He pretty much had to pull it along after him through the tunnel, which was only about ten or twelve feet but took a sharp left turn midway through that cut out any stray moonlight.

He emerged, straightened up, and stared.

The tunnel came out in a perfect sheltered cove, almost circular, with rock walls that towered around it. Another hidden place, but this one was more open, more pleasant, with a pool of water so large that it would probably hold fish, plenty of shrubs and grasses, and even a few small trees. The rock walls were mossy in places and trailing with ivy in others, but the moon filled it up with light.

“Did you know this was here?” he said to Elsa, who was still looking around in soft wonder. She shook her head slowly, presumably understanding enough. “Wow, this is... yeah, I have to admit it. This is perfect.”

Elsa tried to take a step forwards, but her leg gave way beneath her and she collapsed back against the rock wall, breathing hard. Cracking ice spread out from her fingertips, but as she closed her eyes and drew herself together again it faded away.

Somewhere in the distance, thunder rumbled, and Hiccup looked up automatically. No clouds right above them yet, but there were some not all that far away; it would probably rain again before the night was out. “We should probably get you under some cover,” he said, peering around the cove again. It was a little hard to tell by night, but there looked to be some shallow caves on the far side. “Come on. I’ll help you erect the tent.”

 

 

 

 

 

Life was strange, but people got used to it after a while. Instead of getting up early to get the furnace going at the forge, Hiccup was up early to feed the dragons, tipping barrels of fish through the trapdoors in the ceilings of the pens. Then it was sweeping out any leaves that had accumulated overnight and laying out whatever weapons might be needed for that day, or putting up fences, or any of the other bizarre props which Gobber seemed to have stashed away up here. After that, it was supposed to be standing aside while the others had the actually violent parts of the lesson, but the number of times that Hiccup had to restack barrels that Astrid’s axe throws had destroyed, or dodge a flying – empty – bucket, meant that he felt like he was doing a considerable amount of learning about violent parts as well.

It went wrong more often than it had any right to, in Hiccup’s opinion. Whether it was the day when the Terrible Terror got loose from its straps and managed to set Hiccup’s vest on fire, or the time that Gobber was frankly foolish enough to give everyone bolas and somehow expect Hiccup not to end up flat on his face courtesy of Snotlout, it felt like there wasn’t a day that went well.

Afterwards there was tidying up to be done, then Gobber tried to get the group to actually read the Book of Dragons while Hiccup fed the dragons a second time. Usually Gobber gave up after shouting at them for about half an hour, and would grumble off to cook dinner for all seven of them while Hiccup hung around and tried not to look too out-of-place.

It didn’t tend to work too well. At best, he got ignored. At worst, the twins tried to see who could get lingonberries to stick to the back of his head. It was something of a relief when he could head home for the night, wait for the lull of Gobber’s lumber-saw snores to fill the house, and then slip out of the window and away into the darkness.

The dragon attacks, however, did not stop just because another search for Dragon Island was underway. With both Stoick and Spitelout on the boats, it was Phlegma and Gobber who was doing a lot of the work when it came to organising the defences. Which did at least mean that they didn’t notice when, five days after the boats left and there was another attack, Hiccup was in fact running back into the village even as the fighting was at its peak.

There was another attack only four days after that, and his first muzzy moments of hearing the horns Hiccup presumed that it was wildlings. It should have been too soon for the dragons to be attacking again. If the wildlings were as frightened of magic as Elsa had said, perhaps her presence had been a weird sort of protection for the village. But as he looked out of the window he saw the great fires being raised up – a sign that not only were there were dragons about, but there were Monstrous Nightmares among them. Which would be why the long pairs of blasts that signalled a dragon attack were sounding. Sometimes, he wished that his brain did not have such a habit of getting ahead of his ears.

“Hiccup!” Gobber bellowed from the bottom of the stairs. “Get to the forge and help Dogsbreath! There’re Gronckles about!”

Gronckles always meant more bent swords and chipped axes, more weapons that would need straightening or fixing or just plain scrapping. Their hides did make for fairly good roofing material, though, when you could get them. Hiccup took the stairs two at a time, not even bothering to grab his knife this time and letting the door stand open behind him as he ran through the village.

The attack was a bad one. Gronckles spat their lava down onto houses, Nadders carried off sheep to plaintive sounds, as Hiccup could see not one but two Monstrous Nightmares, both of them fully flamed, scrapping with the catapults on the lower defences. But in some ways, that was a good thing, because it was only in the big attacks that you got–

“Night Fury!” bellowed one of the women, and everyone in the street ducked reflexively as the sharp sound of Night Fury fire cut through the sky. One of the catapult towers went crashing to the ground.

They had a name for it, and they knew what its fire looked like, but that was it. It had to be black, to be so invisible. But it struck as fast as lightning, and left death in its wake, and that was what they presumed it to come from.

Hiccup wasn’t so sure. It had to be a dragon like the others, which meant it could be killed like any of the others. But it was only ever visible for an instant, right as it fired when the sky around it lit up to reveal its silhouette, and it was too fast to take aim for. Besides, when that happened it was basically on top of them, and no Viking was foolhardy enough to fire on his own.

The only way to hit it would be if you knew where to aim before it fired. And the only way you could really do that was if you had Hiccup’s journal.

He’d been keeping it for years. At first it was only the dates of dragon attacks, but then he’d started adding what breeds had been seen, what damage they had done, how much food they had made off with. And the Night Fury only ever hit a maximum of six of the catapult towers that made up the strongest line of the lower defences, sometimes only four or five.

Another Night Fury blast, with almost a scream-like quality to it, cut through the air as Hiccup reached the door to the smithy. Dogsbreath was already hard at work, sweat on his brow and his young brother pumping the bellows for him. He looked up, saw Hiccup, and scowled. At least, he probably did, although it was a little hard to tell from behind that moustache.

“What’re you doing here?” he snapped. “Get back home!”

And that was all the invitation that Hiccup needed. Holding up his hands, he backed out of the front room of the smithy again, then ran round to the back Between the cart and the woodshed stood his real goal – his bola-thrower.

It had started life as a ballista, one hit by the Night Fury itself as a matter of fact. It had taken moons of work to mesh it together with a wooden barrel such that it was even capable of throwing the bolas, and moons more to get the right spin so that they flew straight rather than careering off into the trees, the ocean, or on one mortifying occasion, the Jorgensen house. Though he would never have admitted it, Hiccup had spent a lot of that day hiding under the smithy cart whilst Spitelout stomped around demanding of everyone he met who was responsible for the brightly-painted bolas that had shot through his window and decapitated his stuffed Nadder.

In Hiccup’s defence, the colours were only supposed to make them easier to find afterwards.

Now, though, he grabbed the machine and continued on across the village. To the north was an outcropping that made a very good vantage point over the village, but the last defences that they’d built up there had been knocked down only a couple of moons previously and they hadn’t been able to build new ones yet. He dropped the bola-thrower into place, unfolded the arms and sights, and set about cranking back the bolas. Even as he was doing so, a third Night Fury shriek sounded.

A Gronckle whirred overhead, so close that Hiccup could feel the wind coming off its wings, but he paid it no mind. Gronckles didn’t tend to go after people unless the people went after them first. He’d seen enough fights to know that. They went straight for the food, stripping drying racks and carrying off sheep, even blasting into storehouses. It was the Nadders and the Nightmares that were more likely to go after people.

A fourth blast. Hiccup cursed beneath his breath, finished readying the thrower, and turned it so that it overlooked the defences that remained. For a moment, he scanned back and forth, trying to calculate which one the Night Fury would hit next. That was the one thing that he hadn’t been able to figure out, whether there was any sort of pattern as to which of the six defensive towers the Night Fury would take.

Above the slavering of the Gronckles and the howling of the Nightmares, somehow he still heard it. A shriek that made the hairs on the back of his neck stand on end, something that was much more like the whistle of a sword through the air than it was like a sound made by a living thing. And in a flash, he knew exactly which tower the Night Fury would strike next, just knew as easily as he knew where his hands were in relation to each other. He turned the thrower, waited for the purple-white flash of fire, then as the sharp black form shot across the light just for a split second, he pulled the trigger.

The bola-thrower jerked so hard that it threw him backwards onto the ground, but Hiccup was barely on his back before he was trying to pull himself back up again. He had to see, had to know if he had finally done it, what the other Vikings had been trying to do for so long now–

The shape dropping from the sky might have been his eyes playing tricks on him in the darkness. But he felt as much as heard the scream, rattling in his teeth, and his heart leapt in his chest.

“Yes!” The whoop came tumbling out of him, and he punched the air in triumph. Was _this_ what it felt like to do something right for once. “I hit it! I hit–”

Then something struck him from behind, and the whole world went black.

 

 

 

 

 

Hiccup woke up to something dripping on his forehead, and Gobber’s face filling most of his field of view.

“Aaargh!”

“Yup, looks like he’s awake,” said Gobber. His face retreated, the night sky taking its place, and as Hiccup tried to flail upright something cold and wet slopped about his face instead. He grabbed it and pulled it off, revealing it to be a cloth wrapped around most of a block of ice.

The sky was quiet, dragons long gone and the fire towers bought down. Hiccup sat up warily, putting the block of ice to one side and glancing around. “What happened this time?”

“A Gronckle hit–” Gobber began.

“Gronckles don’t go for people,” said Hiccup, frowning. He managed to get one foot under him, then the other, but as he was trying to go from horizontal to vertical the world lurched and he almost ended up back on the ground once again. Mercifully, Gobber grabbed him – with his good hand, at that – and pulled him to his feet.

“If you’d let me finish. A Gronckle hit the hillside, which set off a Monstrous Nightmare, who headed in your direction.”

“Ah.” That did make rather more sense. Hiccup took a step, and the ground tried to take one with him. He gritted his teeth, despite the throbbing it started in his temples, absolutely determined not to be slung over Gobber’s shoulder and carried home like a sack of cabbages. “Yep, that would do it. Did someone get it?”

“No, but you owe Astrid a pie. She was the one that made enough of a racket to stop it from roasting you. Good thing, too, or I’m pretty sure your father would have baked me _into_ a pie when he got back.”

The image of Stoick’s face upon learning that Hiccup had – not for the first time, and sadly not even for the first time this year – nearly gotten himself eaten by a Monstrous Nightmare was not a pleasant thought. “How about we don’t tell him about that?” Hiccup suggested.

Gobber patted him, relatively gently, on the shoulder. “Now that’s the first good idea I’ve heard from you all evening. And before you ask–”

“Where’s my–”

“You’re _not_ getting that dangerous contraption of a machine back, and I’m not telling you where it’s been put, either.”

Hiccup groaned. Well, there went most of the last year’s worth of work. “Well, thank you Monstrous Nightmare.”

 

 

 

 

 

Unlike his father, Hiccup had discovered that he could actually cook without setting things on fire or destroying the entire kitchen. Gobber had thrust him in the vague direction of the kitchen and told him to get to work on that pie before they went up to the arena for the day.

“We’re still training?” said Hiccup incredulously. “After that?”

“Only a brief session. Better to talk about what happened, see what they learnt from it. Then it’ll be back down to the village to help with the clear-up. You’re going to have to handle the arena yourself for today.”

Hiccup blinked at the two knives on the table until they turned back into one again, and sighed. He was sure that he’d heard Astrid say she liked haddock at some point or another, and dug around their dried fish stores until he actually turned some up. There was even a chance that he would get this done by early afternoon, he supposed as he built up the fire.

Dawn wasn’t far behind the dragon attack, and through the open door of the house Hiccup could see people already breaking into the stores of wood to get things repaired. There wasn’t any wailing or screaming, though, which was a good thing; this time around, nobody had been killed.

His head throbbed, and he burnt his hand trying to retrieve the pie from the oven again, but it was ready by the time that Gobber got back. He looked it over and gave an approving nod, then disappeared off into the main bedroom with a grumble about his razor. He’d said before that it took work to keep that moustache in line.

Hiccup was still wrapping a cloth around the pie as he left the house. He dodged out of the way of a cart of Gronckle hides being taken in the direction of the stores – a dragon must have bashed through the roof, rather than just trying to set it alight – ducked under the plank of wood Gunnar was carrying on his shoulder, and sidestepped a puddle of still-hot Gronckle lava only to almost bump into Astrid on her own doorstep.

She frowned at him, bags under her eyes. “What are you doing out again?”

“Here.” Hiccup presented the bundle. “It’s for, well, saving my life. Again, probably, I haven’t been keeping track if there’s been a time before.”

Astrid peeled back the cloth far enough to see the crust and for a small waft of steam to make its way out. Dropping it back down, she went to hand the pie back to Hiccup. “Anyone would have done it.”

“But anyone didn’t,” said Hiccup. “You did. Please.” He backed away a step, having found that people felt very silly about chasing someone to try to give something to them, rather than take it away. “Share it, if you want to.”

Without waiting for a reply, he turned and hurried away, attempt to look casual probably spoilt by the fact that he almost got sideswiped by another plank of wood on the way across the road. It was taken for granted around Berk that people would know how to avoid getting injured while repairing buildings; even Hiccup could not remember a time before he had been expected to sit _still_ , for Thor’s sake, and hold those nails, or when he was expected to help cart off broken roofing material to be broken down at the forge or set aside for the fires. Nothing ever technically went to waste on Berk. It was just that a lot of it got set fire to at some point or another.


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Toothless finally makes an appearance.

Hiccup did not get himself mentioned by name while Gobber talked through the night’s attack with the trainees. He also managed to resist the urge to point out details that they missed about the pattern of Monstrous Nightmare attacks, or the fact that Gronckles seemed more likely to go after the fish while Nadders were more likely to go after the sheep. It probably wouldn’t help much anyway, and Hiccup didn’t want to have to explain about his journals.

Instead, he concentrated on sweeping out the night’s leaves, scrubbing at the soot stains on the walls with a wet brush, and feeding the dragons. After the stocks had been hit so hard last night, there was less food than usual, and Hiccup felt a vague pity as he tipped in about two-thirds of the usual amount of fish for the Monstrous Nightmare. Gobber had said that it would still be enough to keep him going, but like everyone on Berk, Hiccup had been hungry before. It wasn’t fun.

The sun was probably high, although it was hard to tell through the thickening clouds, as he dumped the last load of fish in for the Nadder and rejoined them in the main ring to see if there was anything else Gobber wanted doing. He did not quite expect to find the group standing around with slices of pie in hand, while Gobber was clattering in the armoury.

“Hey, Hiccup, come and try this!” said Fishlegs excitedly. “Astrid bought it in, it’s really good!”

“I’m good, thanks,” said Hiccup. It was nice of Fishlegs to offer, he had to admit; the twins had shot each other dubious looks when Fishlegs had made the invitation. He couldn’t see Astrid’s face from where he stood. “Got to go do... something.”

Rather than ask for more jobs, he just left. The basics were done for now, and he could go back and muck the dragons out later once he was less likely to get annoyed over something as ridiculous as fish pie. That would really not be the most justified fight that he ever picked.

It started raining just as he reached the woods on the edge of the village, naturally. Hiccup groaned and pushed his hair back out of his face, but kept tramping on between the trees. He tried to walk in slightly different places each time on his way to the cove where Elsa was now living, hoping that he wouldn’t leave a path that anyone would be able to follow. The last thing that he wanted to do right now was put Elsa in danger.

Only as he reached the cove did he realise that he hadn’t bought any food with him this time. Elsa had said that she had been able to gather some food, but he didn’t want her to end up wearing out the supplies while her leg was still in the cast and she wasn’t easily able to get in and out. Besides, what he had said had been true – although there were fewer people fishing, there were far fewer people in the village, and they were averaging more food each at the moment.

He hoped that his father and the others on the ships were all right.

It was actually something of a relief to duck down into the short tunnel, just as thunder rumbled in the distance. Berk’s weather was returning nicely to form after a brief period of less-objectionable conditions, with the sort of rainfall which made you glad that there even the river didn’t get close enough to the village to flood it. Arendelle didn’t get anywhere near the amount of rain that Berk did, which made them a lot better at growing cereals but also a lot prissier about getting mud on themselves. Even at nine years old, Hiccup had been able to find that entertaining.

“Good afternoon, Elsa!” he called as he made his way to the other end and straightened up. “Funny story, today, argh...”

What started off as an attempt to climb carefully down the rock and into the cove ended up as an undignified slither. Apparently pie-related irritation was just as much of a detriment to rock climbing as rain was. Hiccup picked himself up, tried to scrape the mud off his palms, and looked around through the drizzling rain.

He caught sight of Elsa first, standing in the middle of the long grass, slightly bent at the knees and with her hands held out, palms up. It took him a moment longer to focus on the shadow in front of her, hunched down; only the glint of teeth and shine of eyes gave it away.

“Elsa!” He went to run forwards, towards her, but in the same instant she gestured for him to stay back and the creature rumbled threateningly. His voice came out strangled, like he was trying to shout and whisper at the same time. “That’s the _Night Fury_.”

That had been him, hadn’t it? With the bolas. Somewhere in the middle of being hit by a Monstrous Nightmare, he had actually managed to forget about hitting the Night Fury. That had to be a record.

“Get back!” Hiccup hissed. He scrambled to draw the knife from his belt, and the Night Fury shifted its weight, back arching and a faint light starting up in the back of its throat. “It’s dangerous!”

“He’s hurt,” said Elsa.

She had one hand extended towards the dragon, and the other towards Hiccup, but her face was marked with concern as well as fear. Hiccup outright gawped at her for a moment, knife in hand and wondering what the hell she was doing, and for that matter how she could even tell. The Night Fury was still watching them like a predator, wings partially open and body coiled tightly. It was black, so deep that it was hard to see in the struggling sunlight, and though not as large as Hiccup had imagined it was still more than big enough.

In the arena, Gobber had warned them all: you had to strike first, or you wouldn’t get to strike at all. You just had to hear the story of Finn Hofferson to know that. Hiccup sidled closer to Elsa, and the Night Fury moved, circling around them.

Elsa’s hand on his arm made Hiccup jump so badly that he almost dropped the knife. “Don’t,” she said. “He’s scared.”

“Are you serious?” he replied, without even looking around. A dragon, scared of him? Of any human in general, but him in particular? The knife wasn’t even particularly sharp, just an everyday one that he carried in case it would come in useful. Around them, the rain was falling more and more heavily, blurring away the world. He put himself between Elsa and the dragon, and really wished that he had thought this through. “How did it get loose?”

It must have bitten through the ropes, or just plain broken them. But what he couldn’t understand was why it hadn’t–

“I let him free, so he can leave and I can be alone. But he is hurt still. I can’t go near.”

This time, Hiccup did turn his head, if only to see if Elsa had actually gone visibly mad in the time that he had been back at the village. Or if he was still unconscious courtesy of the Nightmare. She grabbed his hand and pointed his knife towards the ground, and before Hiccup could wrench it away again he heard the sound of wings on the air, and looked around just in time to see the Night Fury spread its wings and spring into the air, like a bat grown huge on terror. Hiccup grabbed Elsa and pulled her to the ground with him, despite her cry of protest, as the wind from the dragon’s wings hit them like a wall of air.

The Night Fury made it into the air, wings pounding down twice, three times, but then with a shriek it dragged round to the side and tumbled back down further round the edge of the lake. Elsa pushed Hiccup aside, ice forming on the wet grass around them, and he scrambled to his knees before his shirt could freeze to the ground.

“What are you doing?” he said to her, in utter disbelief. “It’s a dragon! A _Night Fury_!” All right, so they hadn’t exactly covered different types of dragon while he was trying to help her learn Northur, but it was black and fast-moving and snarling at them.

This time, Elsa didn’t say anything. The rain was at Berk speciality level now, so hard that you could feel it through your clothes and so cold that Elsa’s magic probably wouldn’t make that much of a difference. She was looking at him almost desperately, hair plastered to her face, cheeks still hollow and eyes huge. All over again he was struck by the fact that, so short a time ago, he had found her half-starved and with a broken ankle in that sinkhole under Berk. Hel and Jörmungandr.

Pushing his hair back out of his face, Hiccup turned to look towards the Night Fury again. He could see it more clearly against the grasses; it was favouring one front paw, and every time it lashed its tail there was a twitch at the end that didn’t quite look deliberate.

Wildlings did not fight dragons, but hid; Elsa had said that. Perhaps that had been why she had thought that letting it leave was easier than killing it. But by all rights, by everything that Berk knew, when she had undone the rope it should have killed her and flown away, possibly taking her body with it. There had been a few empty boats sent out to sea before. But it hadn’t.

Dragons were... well, dragons. They flew and breathed fire and threw up molten metal, and all sorts of other ridiculous things. Vikings had spent centuries fighting them, and learning about how they lived just so that they could arrange for them to die.

Hiccup looked at the Night Fury on the far side of the cove, and remembered what it had been like to look through its eyes, just for an instant, at the lower defences of the village. That single breath where he had felt like the dragon. The rush of air and the pump of muscles, the burning thrill that came with any fight… but not malice. He had not thought of malice there.

“All right,” he said quietly. If he thought about this for too long, he was going to stop himself from doing it.

He pushed his knife into Elsa’s hands, knowing all the while that her ice would be a better protection than some knife could ever be. Then, for good measure, shrugged off his vest and dropped it to the ground as well. If he was going to be cold and soaked to the skin, he might as well use it to prove that he didn’t have any weapons.

This was really stupid. Really, honestly stupid. And somehow Hiccup was doing it anyway. He spread his hands, palms up, and started walking as calmly as he could towards the Night Fury. For a given value of calm, given that his heart was racing in his chest and he was pretty sure he was sweating underneath of the rain. And as he got closer, the last thing that he could have expected happened.

The Night Fury stepped back.

Hiccup took another step forwards, and the dragon’s eyes stayed pinned to him, so green they seemed to glow. He could see more than just a vague shape now – the spread wings, the four powerful legs, the sort of fringe around the head which reminded him a little of the Nadder’s crest, softened and more suited to flight. And it still wasn’t attacking him.

“Hey there, big guy,” he said, because even if the dragon wouldn’t understand it was making him feel better to be talking right now. “The whole island, and you end up landing here? Did you know that Elsa would be kind to you?”

He was so close now that he could see faint steam from the Night Fury’s nostrils, and the wet pink line of its mouth. Its eyes narrowed slightly, and Hiccup flinched, turning his face away.

From the corner of his eyes, he saw the tense posture relax slightly. The dragon’s wings lowered a little, head dipping. Hiccup drew one of his hands back to his chest, curling it into a fist and pressing it over his heart, but kept the other one extended towards the Night Fury.

“She says you’re hurt. Are you going to let me have a look at that, huh? I can’t believe I’m even doing this.”

It was all in the same, almost sing-song, tone of voice. The dragon flicked its tail again, but it was less of a snap this time, and it looked... off. There was something unbalanced about its movements, though it was hard to see any more than that through the rain.

Hiccup drew in a ragged breath. “Come on, bud. I just... I just want to help.”

His voice faded to a whisper as he realised that he meant it. As strong as his desire had been to shoot the Night Fury down, not all that many hours ago... it was gone. Faded into an achievement for which he didn’t even care all that much anymore.

Maybe he should have learnt with wildlings, and the trollwort net, and Elsa.

“Will you let me?”

The Night Fury had a long, rounded body, a blunt head, wings that had looked like the night when it had spread them out and tried to fly away. Now its head dipped down almost to the ground, and its shoulders were not even level with Hiccup’s. Step by step, Hiccup crept closer, edging sideways with his hand still outstretched.

He stopped, just a couple of feet away. The dragon’s wings twitched, and Hiccup could still feel the wind from it, smacking his wet clothes against his body. A shiver ran through him, though he tried to hold it down. His hand shook, but Hiccup held as still as he dared, arm burning, until movement beside him made him think that his heart was going to stop.

The dragon’s nose brushed against his hand.

It wasn’t much more than a moment, cool scales brushing against his palm, but it was a _Night Fury_ and he thought that his knees were going to give way from beneath him. He felt the roll of its breath against his hand and tried not to fall over, and cautiously looked round at the dragon again. Huge green eyes fixed on him.

“All right. Still haven’t been eaten, which is... probably a good sign,” said Hiccup, mostly to himself but partially in the hope that the Night Fury was actually finding his voice comforting or something of that sort. “Are you going to let me see your tail, now?”

The dragon turned to face him, but it was curled around itself so far that it was only a few steps until Hiccup was right by its tail. There was one thing that dragons had in common: give or take a few warts, they were symmetrical. They couldn’t fly otherwise. Injure a dragon’s wing, damage its tail, and you took it out of the air for good. And the Night Fury’s tailfin was ripped away on its left side, the membrane torn off entirely and a ragged wound along the flesh of the tail itself. It was hard to tell with the rain, but it might have still been bleeding.

Hiccup bent down and reached towards it, but with a snort the dragon flicked its tail out of Hiccup’s reach again. He turned around, reaching for something else comforting to say, but Elsa was walking slowly towards the dragon as well, both hands reaching out almost tenderly towards it. As she got closer, she dropped to her knees and offered up her hands; the Night Fury sniffed them, then further up Elsa’s arms and right into her face. Elsa closed her eyes, and Hiccup was fairly sure that she was holding her breath, then the dragon dipped its head and nudged against her palm as well.

“That just happened,” said Hiccup.

Elsa cautiously raised one hand towards the dragon’s cheek; it flinched away, rumbling deep in its chest, then let her brush her fingers over its skin.

“Yeah, this is definitely happening.”

There were two of them kneeling beside a dragon in the pouring rain – not just any dragon, but the Night Fury, the only one known. Hiccup wondered how much further his world could skew. Elsa put one hand beneath its chin and stroked below its eye. “Hiccup is going to help you,” she said. “He helped me.”

Killing the Night Fury was supposed to _fix_ things. Make him a dragon-hunter like the rest of Berk, make him normal, make people acknowledge him as one of their own. It was supposed to make up for everything that he had screwed up during, well, the last fourteen years. And instead it had ended up like this. For a moment, Hiccup hung his head, wondering exactly what was wrong with him that this felt right, then he looked over to the tail once again.

First a girl with a broken ankle, now an animal – and it _was_ an animal, dragon or no – unable to move around like it should, because of him. Hiccup reached out and touched the tail carefully; the Night Fury grunted and flinched, but didn’t pull away. The scales were warm to the touch, and he had been right; it had not scabbed over, and was bleeding still.

“This is bad,” he said. “With a human I’d say to wash it and bandage it, but...”

He looked to Elsa, who returned his gaze with something that looked worryingly like she trusted him. That was a strange feeling for Hiccup as well.

“But here goes.”

 

 

 

 

 

Which was how he ended up spending his afternoon coaxing the Night Fury into one of the caves, boiling water over the fire, and washing out the long, ragged wound. There was dirt in it, and bits of leaves, and other things that Hiccup didn’t even want to think about. If there was one bit of medicine which they were good at on Berk, it was amputations. He even found himself thinking at one point that it would be better if they could burn away some of the ragged bits of flesh and cauterise it, but he wasn’t sure how that would even _work_ on a dragon.

He got blood on his legs at some point, but it was hard to really see with the mud anyway, and he figured he would just pass it off as a scraped knee if Gobber saw it during laundry day. The dragon’s tail ended up draped across Hiccup’s knee; away from the wound, the scales were cool to the touch, though when he had brushed against the dragon’s side it had been warm. The fire, perhaps.

“I don’t know what to do about this,” he said, gesturing to the wound. Elsa looked up; she was sitting cross-legged beside the dragon’s head, and had been taking in and echoing anything that Hiccup could think of to say about dragons. It seemed that the Night Fury really did like hearing peoples’ voices.

“Can I see?” she asked. Hiccup nodded, and she leant closer. She was not carrying the trollwort today, and ice glittered on the cape slung over her shoulders. At a shift of her leg, she hissed through her teeth, but shifted closer again as the dragon rumbled and regarded them both carefully. “I think...” she frowned, perhaps looking for the words, then reached out and very carefully pressed her fingers to the edge of the wound.

Ice spread, clotting the blood and sealing off the ragged edges of flesh. The dragon’s wings twitched and flared, and it bared its gums at them, but it did not move its tail away even in the seconds that it took for Elsa’s ice to seal the wound completely.

“Wow,” said Hiccup, once he was sure that he could breathe again. Elsa ducked her head away, but her eyes were still fixed cautiously on Hiccup. “That might just work. That... that’s brilliant!”

“Brilliant?” echoed Elsa.

“Good,” he said. “Very, very good.” Elsa smiled cautiously, and the dragon huffed in their general direction.

He couldn’t believe that he’d just spent the day doing this. But then again, if he heard a description of someone much like himself, it wouldn’t be all that hard to believe. The boy who hunted for trolls and read old books about magic and far-off lands? If there was going to be anyone that ended up trying to heal a wounded dragon, then yes, it would be that boy.

No-one had ever seen a Night Fury before. Even its pages in the Book of Dragons were almost empty, with only notes on the deaths that it could cause, the destruction it could rain down with some of the most powerful fireballs any dragon could produce. As the rain had thinned a little, the sky lightening if not clearing, it had become apparent that there was a bluish quality to the Night Fury’s scales, and that the fringe around its head was mobile, flicking and moving with the rumbles that it made.

Elsa got to her feet, motioning for Hiccup to stay still, and limped to the next cave along where her own shelter stood. She returned with a frozen fish, of all things, a small fat bream from which the ice faded as she handed it to Hiccup.

“He will like, perhaps?” She had been calling the dragon male all along, though Hiccup wasn’t really sure he wanted to get personal enough to check. He’d seen the theory in the Book of Dragons, pages which Gobber had skipped when talking to the others, but didn’t want to push his luck by trying to find out. Maybe it would be safer to go with him, or to work some more on Elsa’s grasp of language gender.

“I suppose we can only find out,” said Hiccup. He moved the dragon’s tail down to the ground, got into a crouch, and shuffled towards the dragon’s head. “Hey, you want to give this a try? Nice bream? Probably from that pond just out there, I’m guessing?”

He jerked his head towards the pool outside, and Elsa nodded. The Night Fury leant its head forwards to sniff at the bream, fringe twitching, then opened its mouth to reveal a row of... pink gums.

Hiccup frowned. “Toothless, huh? You know, I really thought that–”

Teeth shot from its gums, and the Night Fury snatched the bream from his hands and gulped it down without even pausing to chew. Hiccup gave a yelp of surprise and fell backwards onto his rear, to poorly-suppressed laughter from Elsa and a curious tilt of the head from the dragon itself. Himself.

“You had teeth,” he finished weakly.

At this rate, he was going to end up naming it. And then things were officially going to be strange.

 

 

 

 

 

He reappeared at the house at sunset, dripping wet and trying not to shiver, thoroughly covered in mud and with a few rocks in his pocket as an attempt to make an excuse for where he had been. Gobber was waiting for him, dinner going cold on the table, but just looked at Hiccup pointedly.

“Find any trolls?”

“Not this time,” said Hiccup. He dropped down onto the bench with a squelch, folded his arms on the table and put his chin on them. Water ran down his face and dripped onto the wood.

“Astrid felt bad about that pie, you know,” said Gobber. For a moment, Hiccup just stared at him blankly, until he actually managed to remember that his original reason for walking off that day had been. “She told the others it was from you, but you’d already left.”

Sitting upright, Hiccup tried to wipe away the worst of the arm-print he’d left on the table. “Oh, yeah, that. Yeah, that was... it’s nothing. It’s fine.”

It really was, after everything else that had happened today instead. He’d tried to rinse out the dragon blood in the pool, but had really only succeeded in getting himself wetter. Hiccup pushed his hair out of his face, but it fell back again pretty much immediately.

Gobber was frowning slightly. “Are you sure you’re all right, Hiccup?”

“Yes, I’m fine, I’m fine.” As if to prove the point, he picked up his spoon and made an attempt at looking enthusiastic about the stew. “Say, I had an idea today, though.”

“Now there’s a dangerous thing.”

Well, at least it had changed the topic, Hiccup supposed. “I was thinking about the doors on the cages for all the dragons, and the levers. What about if we set it up,” he started tracing lines in the air with his spoon, drawing across his mental image of the arena, “a pulley system, which meant that we could have all of the levers together? Like one control point. Then you don’t have to have someone right by the doors to let the dragons in and out. You could probably even lure them back in using the fish.”

“Huh,” said Gobber. “I suppose that’s a thought. You couldn’t use rope, though, not for long. Rain’d get rid of it, never mind the dragons themselves.”

“Most of them can’t melt steel, though,” he replied. Only the Nadder was really powerful enough to cut through steel quickly. “If we put it in a steel casing, right against the stone so it doesn’t look like too much of a target... 

Nodding slowly, Gobber scratched his chin. “Aye, that could work. Probably best to try it out on one of the weaker ones first, though. The Gronckle, or the Terror, maybe.”

Successful distraction and successful idea both in the same night. Hiccup had to fight not feel pleased with himself.

 

 

 

 

 

The satisfaction wore off by the time that he went to bed. It was one thing to be sitting with Gobber, putting their largest slate on the kitchen table as they were usually banned from doing, and sketching out on it what they could do to set up a lever system for all of the doors. It was quite another, though, to be left to his thoughts and to look out of his little square of a window and think that last night, the Night Fury had still been able to fly.

One of these days, he was going to have to stop messing things up. Surely.

It was probably exhaustion that actually got him to sleep that night, and which meant that at least he didn’t remember his dreams. He stumbled out of bed at dawn the next day, didn’t even register what was put in front of him for breakfast, and followed Gobber obediently to clean the arena and muck out the dragons, while Gobber thought aloud about the system that they’d need to have one set of levers controlling everything.

“Does this stuff work as fertilizer?” Hiccup asked, looking at the mostly-full wheelbarrow. Even with only a handful of dragons, it didn’t take long to build up. “I mean, with the yaks...”

Gobber gave the bright green dragon dung a rather unimpressed look. “I’m not sure there’s anyone on the island wants to grow food in dragon muck, Hiccup. Thor only knows what’s in it.”

Fish, around here, thought Hiccup, but didn’t voice that particular fact aloud. Instead he just set about taking the wheelbarrow out and round to the pit again. He and Gobber had just finished setting up the fences for the Nadder when the others turned up, looking a little apprehensive at the maze of wooden screens now filling the arena.

“Right,” said Gobber. “Now, today is the Deadly Nadder. I hope you’ve all done your reading lately,” he waved the Book of Dragons at them, then pushed it into Hiccup’s hands, “because it’d be nice if we got the right shot limit today.” He gave the twins a pointed look, which was studiously ignored. “Now, can anyone – _not you, Fishlegs_ – tell me what that limit would be?”

There was silence, then Astrid rolled her eyes at the others and spoke up. “Five.”

“Very good. But remember, that’s only for the fire – those spines are basically infinite, and believe me when I say they can do just as much damage as a fireball. Now, into the armoury with you,” he said, pointing. “Shields plus weapons of your choice today. Have fun.”

“Do you want me to wait outside?” said Hiccup, as the others entered the armoury. He heard a crash, and Ruffnut called Tuffnut an idiot, but that was hardly unusual. “Considering...”

“Probably a good idea,” said Gobber. It was only an honest answer, Hiccup knew that, but it stung a little all the same. “Or wait in the armoury, if you’d rather.”

There was an ear-splitting crash, and an exclamation of, “Oh, for Frigg’s sake!” from Astrid.

“I’ll skip the armoury, thanks,” said Hiccup.

Gobber shrugged in a way that meant ‘suit yourself’, and Hiccup was free to make his exit from the arena – closing the gate behind him, of course. He tucked the Book of Dragons under his arm and took the stairs up two at a time, emerging with a fairly good view of all of the action down below.

Every family on the island had a Book of Dragons. They were quite often given as wedding gifts to new couples, and Berk was actually astonishingly literate for a village full of Vikings. Like most people, Hiccup had learnt to read from his family’s copy, and it was that one that he usually looked at. He was not, however, going to miss a chance to get a look at Gobber’s.

It had been Gobber’s great-great-grandfather, Bork the Bold, who had created the first Book of Dragons. Of course, the one Hiccup was now holding was not that exact book, but it would have been one of the first copies made from it, one of the best. Add to that the fact that further generations, including Gobber, had put in notes of their own, and he was hoping that there might be some information in this book that wasn’t in the Haddock one.

He started searching for the pages on Night Furies as, below his feet, the Nadder was let loose into the maze. It immediately started running back and forth along the narrow passages, while the teens stayed grouped together by the armoury and waited for the sounds of its movement. While Hiccup could hear the clicking of its feet against the floor, he wasn’t so sure that the others would be able to do the same, or to tell how close it was even with that.

“Gotcha,” he muttered, as the words _Night Fury_ came into view at the top of a double-page spread. But these pages, like the ones in the Haddock book, were all but blank. The only addition was a note at the bottom of the second page, which read:

_No Night Fury has been seen since the time of Bork. It is time we questioned whether these dragons are real at all. – Guffer_

Gobber’s grandfather, if Hiccup remembered correctly. Beneath that, in surprisingly neat handwriting, was added:

_A Night Fury has been spotted for the first time, in the fifth year of the Chiefdom of Stoick the Vast. Its fire is unmistakeable. – Gobber_

Fifteen years then, give or take, there had been at least one Night Fury harrying Berk. But only the one. Frowning, Hiccup kept flicking through the book, looking for any other dragon that had any reference to being rare or found only singularly. He couldn’t remember any from his Book of Dragons, but this copy had a quire at the back of rumours and legends, dragons which even Bork did not quite believe to be real. That was where terrible creatures like the Green Death of the ocean or the Red Death of the land were recorded, the sort of thing that no-one had ever seen – or even claimed that a friend of a friend of a shipmate had seen, for that matter.

An axe clattered through the bars beside him, and Hiccup was startled from his search. “Hey!” He grabbed it, ready to at least try to throw it back, but Snotlout was already disappearing around a corner.

There was a screech of fury from the Nadder, then a series of thuds as its spines hit one of the fences. It was used to stone walls, that was the thing, and as long as the fences were firmly weighted down with stones there was generally not much risk of them fall–

Of course, Hiccup had to think that. Just as he was getting to his feet, there was a great creaking crash and one of the fences came down to reveal, naturally, the twins.

“Ruffnut! Tuffnut!” bellowed Gobber, as the Nadder wheeled on them. “Get down!”

They hit the floor just as the Nadder unleashed a full load of its spines in their direction. The spines hit the wall behind them, but it didn’t take much to see that the Nadder had just realised how flimsy the walls surrounding it were. It hopped up onto one of them, dug in its claws, and with one great beat of its wings had ripped the wood sideways. This time the fence collapsed into the one next to it, and a whole chain reaction started to spread across the arena.

“Oh, Thor,” said Hiccup. The fence closest to him crashed against the wall and lay there at an angle. He saw Astrid deliver a flying tackle to take Snotlout out of the Nadder’s line of attack, and Fishlegs standing not that far from Hiccup, now the only one exposed. “Oh, Thor and Loki...”

The bars were set close enough together to keep out a dragon, but not a hiccup. He slipped between the bars and skidded down the sloping fence, stumbling as he hit the ground. Fishlegs was standing there like a moth in front of a candle, the Nadder in front of him glancing with each eye, opening its mouth to reveal the white-hot fire in the back of its throat–

Hiccup didn’t even think. He ran out in front of Fishlegs, whacking the taller boy on the back of the knees with the handle of the axe to make him drop down. The axe slipped from Hiccup’s hand as he ran right up to the Nadder, stopped to turn his head away, and held out one hand, palm extended, straight towards it.

“Hiccup!” Gobber shouted, and Astrid might have shouted it as well, but then there was silence.

He could hear his own breathing, his heartbeat, the sound of creaking wood around him. Hiccup risked a glance sideways to see that the Nadder was examining his hand with one critical eye, then turned to sniff, and just for a moment brushed the tip of its nose against Hiccup’s hand.

“Get away from him, you scaly beast!” shouted Gobber, banging the hammer of his left hand against the wall. The Nadder turned, head jerking up, then turned and ran back to its cage before Gobber could get any closer. Well, it was probably good to have one person that the dragons were afraid of. “And you!” Oh, Thor again. Gobber rounded on Hiccup. “What do you think you’re doing?”

“I- just- he-” There were whole sentences in Hiccup’s brain, but somehow none of them could actually find their way to his mouth in any sort of coherent form. He flapped one hand vaguely in the direction of Fishlegs, who was looking at him in complete and utter astonishment, then gave a nervous laugh. “Can’t have anyone getting eaten.”

“No, you muttonhead, least of all you,” said Gobber. Snotlout might have protested that in the background. “Those dragons have been around humans for moons, Hiccup, some of them years. And a dragon who’s lost his fear of humans is the most dangerous of all. And as for the rest of you,” he said, turning on the other teens, “my apprentice just saw off a dragon the five of you couldn’t. Which means you lot are going to help me tidy up these fences, and he gets the afternoon off.”

Right now, that was far more of a relief than it had any right to be. Hiccup had a feeling that he really needed to get back to the cove right now.


	6. Chapter 6

He probably should have anticipated that he would find Elsa digging what was probably a fire pit while the Night Fury sat not all that far away and watched curiously. She had her knife in one hand and a sort of scoop of bark in the other, and though she froze for a moment when Hiccup first slid down into the cove, she relaxed again a moment later.

“Afternoon,” he said. The grass was damp against his legs, but the weather was holding off for the day. “Has everything been...” he nodded to the dragon. “All right?”

Elsa looked round at the Night Fury, who cocked his head and rumbled something. “He does not like  _nekillosan_ ,” she replied, gesturing to the pot beside her. As Hiccup got closer, he glanced in to see that it was full of mushrooms. “But fish, he likes them.”

“You, er, want a hand with that?” He gestured to the half-dug pit. It was still only a hollow in the ground, really. Elsa glanced across it, then gave him a hopeful smile and offered him the scoop. It was rough, but looked effective enough and a surprisingly good fit for his hand as he knelt down next to her and started digging out the soil. “So everything is really all right?”

“Yes,” said Elsa, and he wondered if the surprise in her voice was because he had asked. “The wound does not bleed now.”

“Well, at least I only maimed a dragon, rather than killing it.” He sighed. “You know that – that hand thing? It’s not just him.”

Elsa looked round, frowning. To be fair, it had been a particularly bad explanation. Hiccup got to his feet again and crossed to the Night Fury, who grumbled something deep in his chest and flared his wings slightly.

“Oh, yeah, knife.” Hiccup took his knife from his belt and tossed it in Elsa’s vague direction. “There we go, see? No weapons.” As the Night Fury settled down a little again, he turned so that he was slightly sideways on, and raised his hand again. “There was a Nadder, in the arena, and I did this, and...”

The Night Fury regarded him for a moment, then stretched out his neck and nudged Hiccup’s hand with his nose.

“You see?” It felt like a rush, as if there was some sort of energy flowing into him whenever the Night Fury touched his hand. Might just have been a sort of dimmed terror, though. “And the Nadder did the same thing. It’s not just Night Furies. It’s not just _him_.”

He pointed at the Night Fury in what was probably a slightly over-dramatic gesture. The dragon made a sound that could only be described as a _chirp_ , and this time it was Hiccup’s turn to look round in bewilderment. Rumbling and roaring and growling he had expected, but not a sound like that.

“I mean, are they all like this?” The words burst out of him. At first sight, yes, the Night Fury had been frightening, but it was harder to be terrified of something when you had washed blood and dirt from a wound you inflicted on it. Besides the fact that it was currently sniffing his boots. The Deadly Nadder, in the arena, had been just the same – he had been wondering what he was doing, certainly, but he wasn’t deathly afraid or anything of that sort. “Are they all so, so...”

He looked at Elsa helplessly, not sure that he could even find the words. Her expression indicated that she wasn’t sure what he was talking about either. To be frank, the dragon seemed the least bewildered of the three of them, as he turned and walked over to the pool again, tail swishing behind him.

Elsa set aside her knife and got to her feet, brushing soil off her hands. This time, she left the cane behind her, and limped but did not wince as she walked up beside Hiccup. “I think he likes to watch fish.”

“Or he’s thinking about dinner,” said Hiccup. The Night Fury batted at the surface of the water with one paw, then held still to examine its own reflection. The sway of its tail bought its injured fin painfully into Hiccup’s attention. “Gods, I wish I could do something about that. But it’s like with the Terrors... they clip the wings so that they can’t escape. I just...” he shook his head, looked down at the ground, and let his eyes trail across to Elsa’s feet – one bare, one still in the cast. “How’s your ankle doing?”

“More good,” she said, then paused and tried: “Better?” When Hiccup nodded, a smile flickered across her face. “It hurts me less.”

And that, as well. He’d always wanted to be like the other members of his tribe – now he found himself almost wanting _to want_ to be like them. To _want_ to kill dragons and trap wildlings and carouse and hold funerals and wakes for the dead. To skin dragon carcasses and burn the rest on the beach. To continue the search for Dragon Island. But it was getting harder and harder to even want those things at all.

“I wish I could do something about his tail,” sighed Hiccup. “But it’s not like bones would grow back.” And dragons were grounded without tails. He watched the way that the remaining fin moved, flaring outwards and closing again, on five slender bones like the fingers of his hand. The muscles on the other side of his tail twitched at the same time, enough to make light catch on the ice sealing the wound. “And I wish I could just _ask_ someone about some of this stuff. I mean, I can’t even ask Gobber...”

A pause. A blink. A rush of thoughts in his head, all at once.

Gobber had once said that Hiccup talked so much because he had to get ideas out of his head to make room for new ones. He might have been right. Mind suddenly soaring, Hiccup looked down at his left hand, curling and extending his fingers, and thinking of all of the times at the forge that he had needed to change over _Gobber’s_ hands. The wooden one that could have a glove over it, the hammer, the bludgeon, the tongs that acted better than hands in a forge because they were so manoeuvrable.

“Prosthetic,” he said aloud. Elsa once again gave him that look which said that he was speaking nonsense. “He can’t use the muscles with it... but it would be a start. It could work.”

A smile spread across his face, and by the time he turned to Elsa it had probably become a look of manic glee.

“That’s it! I can’t _fix_ his tail, but I can replace it... I need to get to the forge. I’m sorry, that probably didn’t even make sense.” Resisting the urge to give a triumphant whoop – it would probably not do to startle either a Night Fury or someone who could produce ice by magic – he grabbed his knife from the ground, almost tripped over his feet straightening up again, and started towards the exit. “I’ll be back! Maybe tonight, or tomorrow. I’ll be back.”

As he left, he glanced back just long enough to see Elsa exchange a glance with the Night Fury and shrug. Then he almost knocked his head on the tunnel on the way out, and decided that perhaps it would be better to concentrate on where he was going instead.

 

 

 

 

 

Dogsbreath had left the forge, and his brother Mudbreath was more than happy to let Hiccup in for the evening as long as he promised to finish the clearing up afterwards. He had a small slate set up with a design sketched out within minutes, and was rooting through the scrap metal almost immediately afterwards. The clanging was probably what attracted Gobber, who leant through the door just as Hiccup was trying to extract some scrap from the bottom of the pile.

“Hiccup? What’re you doing in there!”

“I – argh!” Hiccup straightened up, metal in hand, and managed to knock his head on the wooden shelf above. One of the hammers slipped over the edge, and he lunged to catch it before it hit the ground. “Just working on something. Got some inspiration.”

“Huh.” Gobber looked as if he was absolutely done with the day. “Somehow those five lunatics took longer to clean up that arena than you do by yourself. I’m going to go see if there’s any blocks of ice left in the house...”

“All right!” called Hiccup, but Gobber was already going. The twins must have been in fine form this evening to be that annoying. “I’ll see you... later.”

He waited, holding his breath, to see if Gobber would return to ask questions about what he was actually doing with scrap metal and some old rags. But mercifully, he did not, and Hiccup gave a sigh of relief and returned to rooting around for something that could easily be drawn out into a rod.

He wasn’t involved in the shipbuilding side of things, beyond helping to make the nails and rivets, but he knew a little bit about how sails were held taut. Rope wouldn’t do for this one, though – it would have to rely on the Night Fury itself. That part was a work in progress. But at least he could actually get something that looked like a tail – metal rods instead of bones, wool instead of membrane. The Gronckle iron was lighter, but he didn’t trust it enough to work with it just yet.

Drawing out to the length that he needed was harder than just making nails. Hiccup was working on the central spoke, the longest, when there was a knock at the door that almost made him drop the rod into the fire altogether.

“Sorry! Sorry, I didn’t mean to startle you.”

Hiccup blinked in surprise, and withdrew the rod before it got overheated. “Fishlegs? What are you doing here? Are you looking for Gobber?”

“No, actually, he told me that you’d be here,” said Fishlegs. He had a fabric bundle in his hands, and Hiccup wondered whether this was just a particularly oddly-timed delivery of rags again. “I went looking for you at the house. I wanted to say thank you for today.”

Hiccup really didn’t have a response to that. He wasn’t sure that he could remember the last time that he had been thanked – other than by his father or Gobber – that hadn’t been sarcastic. Well, maybe Elsa, come to think of it, but that was a different situation.

“I, it, it’s nothing,” he managed to say, even if the words didn’t really want to string together. He shrugged. “Anyone would have done it, Fishlegs. Can’t have the students getting eaten!”

Once again, he aimed for jovial, but wasn’t quite sure that he hit it. Fishlegs gave him a nervous smile. “Well, anyone didn’t. You did. Here.”

He unwrapped the bundle and held it out and oh, all right, not clothes at all then. Gobber got plenty of food in exchange for his blacksmithing, and Hiccup occasionally got remembered as having done some of the work as well, but he had _definitely_ never been presented with food in his own right before.

Carefully, he laid the cooling rod down on the anvil and slipped off his leather gloves. “You didn’t have to do this!”

Fishlegs just sort of shrugged awkwardly and proffered the food again. “They’re crabcakes,” he said. “My mother has this special recipe, she won’t even tell me, and, well, yes.”

Mrs. Ingerman also had three children to feed, even if she was benefitting as much as anyone else from having the fishing catches split between fewer people. And with Fishlegs at the arena training, he couldn’t even be at the farm as much as usual to help her. It was gratifying, but a little awkward, that she had taken the time to make fishcakes over Hiccup... well, jumping in front of a Deadly Nadder, which even in hindsight was a really stupid thing to do.

“Thank you,” said Hiccup softly.

“Oh, and you can keep the basket as well,” added Fishlegs. “Frog’s getting a lot better at them.”

“Your sister made this?” Hiccup’s eyebrows shot up as he looked at the neatly-made basket, perfectly round and tightly woven. Froglegs was only eleven, though she sometimes seemed a lot older than that.

Fishlegs smiled proudly. “Yeah. She’s getting really good. Pig keeps trying to copy her and just making... well, they sort of look like spiders’ webs, really.”

“Hey, that’s about the level of my basketry,” said Hiccup. Beneath the gloves, his hands had been kept fairly clean, and he didn’t get sick as he had when he was a kid any more. Deciding that it would be worth risking it, he picked out one of the crabcakes and took a bite. The flavour didn’t so much explode across his tongue as seep, and his eyes went wide. “Wow,” he mumbled, still around the mouthful. “Those are _amazing_.”

“My mother will be glad to hear that. She is pretty proud of them.”

“With good reason.” He swallowed. “You’re sure there aren’t sacrifices to Andhrímnir involved?” As Fishlegs laughed, Hiccup nudged the edge of the bowl back towards him. “Go on, have one.”

“Oh, no, they were for you.”

Hiccup shrugged. “If they’re mine, I can do what I want with them. Including offer them to people. Go on.”

With a smile, Fishlegs put down the bowl on the table beside them, and picked up one of the crabcakes for himself. If things had been a little different – if Hiccup had been stronger, and less prone to having things destroy themselves around him – they might have been friends, but Fishlegs was taller and bigger and just in pretty much every way a better Viking than Hiccup was. Even after years in the smithy, Hiccup couldn’t match him for strength.

“So,” Hiccup continued, groping for something to talk about being crabcakes. There was only ever so much to talk about on Berk, and he didn’t particularly want to fall back on the old favourite of the weather. “Training. At the arena. You think you’ve got a shot at the Monstrous Nightmare?”

Fishlegs gave a slightly derisive snort. “Oh, come on. Everyone knows that’s going to be Astrid. Besides, I’m just glad to be learning how to actually fight them. I don’t think I want to go out on the ships.”

“Well, we need to keep some people in Berk. Otherwise we’ll come back and the yaks will have taken over the place.”

“I suppose.” Fishlegs finished off his own crabcake, then rubbed his fingers together, looking at the crumbs almost thoughtfully. When he turned to Hiccup again, his brow was furrowed, and he spoke almost disbelievingly. “How do you do it, though? Being Gobber’s apprentice?”

The words took him by surprise. “Well, I just do what he tells me and try to not get hooked.”

“No, I mean... how do you _do_ it? Be around the dragons all the time? Not even armed.”

There wasn’t really a person on Berk who hadn’t lost _someone_ to the dragons. Hiccup’s mouth abruptly started feeling too dry to take another bite. “It’s... an occupational hazard,” he said. He couldn’t bring himself to make it a joke in the way that other things had been. “Besides, the dragons are there. All we can do is learn about them.”

“And learn to fight them,” said Fishlegs earnestly.

“Well, yes. Obviously.”

 

 

 

 

 

Things got weirder.

If he wasn’t feeding and mucking out the dragons early in the morning, he was sitting in on the lessons that Gobber gave in between letting the teens throw axes at the dragons. If it wasn’t that, it was eating lunch with Fishlegs – his mother always sent him with some food or another, and he was more than happy to let Hiccup have a slice of pie or a chunk of cheese as, more often than not, they tried to borrow Gobber’s copy of the Book of Dragons and go through what his family had added over the years; Fishlegs was amazed by Gobber’s copy of the Book, the extra notes in it and the arguments that had tarried through the generations. Or it was working with Gobber to design new levers, new doors, new trapdoors, new anything and everything for the arena as the ideas kept tumbling out of him for how to improve things.

“Don’t bother with that,” said Gobber, when he caught Hiccup looking at the blank Night Fury pages of the Book of Dragons. “All that we can do is stay out of that one’s way.”

“Even after three hundred years?”

Gobber sighed. “All the others are based on what we’ve observed, Hiccup. That one? Nothing. No-one’s seen a Night Fury and lived to tell the tale.”

It didn’t stop Hiccup from looking, of course, but it made him turn the page more quickly when Gobber entered the room. Looking at the other pages at least gave him an idea of what he could look for in the Night Fury’s behaviour, the gaps that he could try to fill.

And then, of course, if it was in any way possible for him to get to the cove, he did. The odd afternoon off when Gobber was at the smithy or having to help in the village, but more often the evenings when he scrambled to finish early at the arena and head off. It took him two days to make a new tail fin for the Night Fury, and three hours waiting for it to fall asleep so that he could put the prosthetic on while it woke up and looked around groggily.

Then there was a brief moment when he was in the air, clinging to the Night Fury’s tail and trying to hold the prosthetic open, and it was all rushing air and wind and oh, gods, either this was going to be amazing or he was going to die, and the next thing that he knew he was in the water and spitting out starwort. An offended shriek behind him was probably the Night Fury, and he was going to have to deal with that in a minute, but he was more concerned with coughing up water as Elsa splashed out to him as best she could and helped pull him to his feet again.

“ _Kelaa aj atvaas_ ,” she said, cold hands on his arms and her eyes wide, but part of Hiccup was still in the air with the dragon and he was just grinning like an idiot. “All right? You are all right?”

“I’m fine, I’m fine!” He threw his arms wide to demonstrate, shaking some of the muck off his arms as he did so. Turning, he saw the Night Fury shaking its tail with grunts of frustration, the fabric and metal flapping about. “All right, bud, all right. We gotta... open it up.” Maybe they did need rope, like hauling out the sails. One that would not get in the way of the wings, go underneath them so as not to hinder him. “You can’t fly with me on your tail, can you?”

He went to splash back out of the water again, then remembered Elsa. The wildling girl was still looking at him with concern on her face, thin sheets of ice forming and cracking on the surface of the water around her. Hiccup held out his hand.

“Look, I’m not hurt. We’ve just got... a bit of a language barrier, that’s all.”

Though she shook her head, Elsa reached out and took his hand. “You are strange, Hiccup.”

“I’ll take that as a compliment.”

When you fell off, you had to get back on the horse. Or, in this case, the dragon. Night after night, Hiccup snuck out to the cove, usually with whatever fish he could lay his hands on, and worked on getting the Night Fury to fly again before sitting at the campfire with Elsa and talking excitedly about what he had seen from the air. She had more words by then, and less fear, and would talk in reply about what it was like to live as a wildling. The food they ate, the village they would settle for a year or two, if the Vikings did not find them, the tents they carried the rest of the time.

“Most of the wildlings live in village,” she said. It was so late at night that it was probably becoming early again, clouds overhead but not really raining. “Some, not, but most. It is safer. Easier to hunt boar, to not have wolves.”

“You’ve hunted boar?” Hiccup’s eyes widened. He’d been on a hunt or two himself, before his father had deemed that to also be too dangerous and relegated Hiccup to the village instead.

But Elsa shook her head. “No. But they do.” How she managed to find all of the food that she did, Hiccup did not know, but she always seemed to have fat hen and orache, bistort and sorrel, besides mushrooms. Gathering also seemed to make her more willing to accept some food from Hiccup – fish, usually, especially any eel since the Night Fury refused to eat it – but also bread and cheese, or dried meat. It had been over a moon since the boats went out, and Hiccup was starting to worry but not allowing himself to admit it. “I am – I was too young, when I was in village.”

“How old were you?” said Hiccup. Elsa cocked her head. “When you left?”

He had pieced that much together from the silences between her words – she had lived in the village only until her magic had been revealed or had grown so strong that even the wildlings would not tolerate it. For a moment before she replied, Elsa picked at the rope of trollwort which she had removed from Hiccup’s net and now wore around her waist like a talisman. “I am eleven years old when ice...”

Even once he was done choking on the water he had been trying to drink, Hiccup was speechless. Eleven was still a child, even in Berk where dragons in the air and wildlings to the south made you grow up hardened and quickly. In Arendelle, they allowed children to be children for longer still. “Seven years?” he finally said, incredulously. Elsa looked up through her lashes, and he saw her lips twitch as they did when she was translating words. “Seven years... alone?”

“What does it mean, ‘alone’?”

“Oh, Thor,” muttered Hiccup. He hadn’t realises that they hadn’t hit on that one. “One person is... alone. Two people are not alone. Alone is...” a vague wave of his hand. “No other people.”

Of course, it meant something a little more than that, a little more than just the physical lack of people around, but he figured that Elsa probably knew that better than anyone. She paused, then her brow furrowed and she nodded. “Then, yes. Seven years alone.”

There wasn’t really a good response to that, at least that Hiccup could think of. He wasn’t sure whether Elsa noticed as she turned to throw a scrap of fish to the dragon, who caught it out of the air and made a sort of chuffing noise as he swallowed it.

“Well, you aren’t alone any more,” he said finally.

“I have you,” replied Elsa. She gave him a very fragile smile. Behind her, the Night Fury huffed again. “And Toothless.”

“Toothless?” He hadn’t meant it in quite that way. Hiccup looked over to the dragon, who had rolled over onto his side and was squirming against a rock, probably in an attempt to scratch an itch on his back, and shrugged. “All right, sure. Toothless it is.”

 

 

 

 

 

Elsa didn’t remember much of her time in Arendelle, or perhaps just wasn’t willing to discuss with him everything that she did remember. She had a sister, but would not tell Hiccup said sister’s name; she did not even know the first names of her parents. Her most vivid memories were of her last couple of days in Arendelle, of ‘an accident’ about which she would not talk in detail, of her father begging for the ‘ _kotte amaat'_.

That was the one day that Hiccup considered taking her to Berk and asking her to tell Gobber, anyone, what was happening in Arendelle.

They claimed not to know. Hiccup had been at the signing of the last treaty, mostly for the look of things even though he was Stoick’s son. Princess Anna of Arendelle, about a year older than him, had been expected to sit in the room and look appropriately regal as well. But both the King of Arendelle and Stoick had sworn no knowledge of wildling hideouts, or how they had originally come to the island.

“The men in silver,” Elsa said, “the... Aapillen.”

“The Silver Priests?”

She nodded. “My parents took me to them. They asked them to take the magic out of me. The Silver Priests said that I would have one of the...” a frown furrowed her brow again, and ice formed on the cup in her hands. “ _Kotten nelaa_. Four... _kotten_.” When Hiccup shook his head, she gave a huff of frustration. “There is _kotte_ of-fire, _kotte_ of-water, _kotte_ of-earth, _kotte_ of-air. Is as... when a person does wrong, they say to other people, the people say right or wrong...”

“A trial!” It snapped together. “When someone commits a crime, you put them in front of a jury? They decide what the punishment is?”

“Punishment,” said Elsa, and her voice was dark on it even though Hiccup was pretty sure he hadn’t said that in front of her before. Maybe that was a word that wildlings in general had picked up from Vikings. “Yes. If I was good, I will live in trial. If not, I will die.”

Her voice trembled slightly, but Hiccup could hear it even over the rain outside and the rumbling of the Night Fury as he slept.

“My father asked of the trial of earth,” she said. “I remember he said to my mother that it was the only one that I will live. The Silver Priests took us to the...” she made a gesture, both hands going from high to low in sharp lines.

“The gorge?”

Another nod. “Took us to the gorge. They said if I was good, I would come home. My father took me across the bridge, into the Wildlands. I stayed there. He went back to Arendelle.”

“How did you survive?” asked Hiccup quietly.

“A woman found me. A wildling. She looked for people from Arendelle. Ones who had the trial of earth. But she could not take me home.”

That night, he stayed at the cove so late that he was running home as dawn was breaking, and fell through the window and into his bed with a thump that woke Gobber and set him grumbling downstairs. It might have been a good thing – he doubted that he would have been able to sleep anyway, with a whole new view on the Silver Priests of Arendelle whom Berk had always presumed to be politically harmless, if personally frustrating, figures.

 

 

 

 

 

“You ready?” Hiccup squared off against Toothless across the open, grassy area of the cove, while Elsa watched with her usual expression of bemusement. “All right, here we go…”

He threw the first stone into the air, in a gentle arc that coasted past the dragon and plopped into the lake. Toothless watched it go, the flaps on the back of his head pricking, but did not respond.

“Oh, come on,” said Hiccup. He threw another, this one slightly higher, and once again Toothless’s eyes followed the stone through the air, but his lips did not so much as part. “Really? I want you to fire at something, and you get all shy? Has he fired while he’s been in here?” he added, to Elsa.

“He has fired,” she said, but carefully, with a gentle roll of her hand. “But small fire. In here.” She pointed into the fire pit.

“Oh, yeah, that sort of slow burn thing that he does.” There was a definite difference between the fire that he had seen Toothless produce when they were out flying, and landing on small islands for a break and for Hiccup to get his breath back, and the great blasts that had destroyed watchtowers. “I mean, I’m not looking for full power – he’d probably break out of the cove if he did that,” he muttered. “But it would be nice to know your show limit, huh?”

A third stone went into the air and flew unhindered into the lake.

“I think there is a language barrier,” said Elsa, straight-faced but with her voice just dry enough to make Hiccup wonder if she was teasing him. He looked at her flatly, but she simply turned back to stirring the fire with a stick, making the embers flare around the fish that were cooking.

“Come on, even I can see them. You’ve got to be able to see them. You can _fly_ at night,” said Hiccup to the dragon. Toothless, still looking over at Elsa and the fire, licked his lips. “Hey! Over here!” Hiccup clicked his fingers until, with a murmur, Toothless turned his head back. “One more time, come on.”

He was not sure what he was expecting, but it should indeed have been for Toothless to calmly watch the progression of the stone without doing anything to actually shoot at it. With a sigh, Hiccup threw his hands up into the air.

“Fine! Contrary creature!”

“Maybe he does not understand,” said Elsa, more gently.

It was unusual that Hiccup got an entire afternoon off from the arena, and Gobber at least did not ask questions so often as his father did. He had immediately taken advantage of the day with a vague comment about going exploring, fled to the cove, and watched Toothless trying to climb a tree until a branch broke and sent him back to the ground with an undignified shriek.

Hiccup chewed on his lip, looking at the stones. Running was good, flying was better, but he felt bad for a dragon unable to spend its flame. “Do you think…” he looked cautiously at Elsa. “Do you think you could show him?”

She tilted her head.

“If I throw a stone, will you fire at it? I mean, send ice at it,” he said, because years of dealing with the twins had taught him to be very careful about his words. “Not breathe fire, for obvious reasons.”

He would have hoped that even that terrible attempt at a joke might get a response from her, but Elsa still looked uncertain. “I do not think that… it is safe,” she replied.

“We can turn round, face this way,” said Hiccup, gesturing to wide open spaces. “You miss the stone, all that you’re going to hit is the lake.” Brushing grass off his leggings, he stood up and walked over, sitting down beside her. Her expression was more cautious than fearful, a distinction that he kind of wished he could not make but had learnt to all the same, as she looked to the stones Hiccup held, than at her own hands. “You don’t have to. If you throw one, I can throw another stone after it or something, try to hit it in the air that way.”

Toothless waded over as well, nosing through the grass as he went. A sneeze escaped him, probably from the pollen thick in the air, and then he plunked himself down on the other side of Hiccup and looked at him hopefully.

“No,” said Hiccup, unable to help smiling. “You’re not having the fish. They’re for Elsa.”

“All right,” Elsa said, so quietly that he almost missed it. “I will do it.”

He did not ask twice, not wanting to give her reason to have second thoughts or make her think that he had them. “Thank you,” said Hiccup instead, firmly and earnestly. Reaching over, he went to put his hand over Elsa’s, but she shifted her hand away without looking down. It might have been chance, but he did not push it. “Come on, let’s show him how it’s done.”

As he readied the first stone, Elsa took a deep breath, and her gaze steadied on the open land in front of them. Hiccup threw the first stone in a gentle lob towards the lake, and even though he knew that the flash of ice was coming it made jump when it smacked the stone out of the air, shattering on impact.

Hiccup glanced over to Toothless, who was watching with more interest, then at Elsa, whose expression was still cautious. “Another?” he suggested.

When she nodded, he chucked a second stone into the air, this one with a bit more force behind it. From the corner of his eye, he saw Elsa flick her wrist, almost as if she were throwing a knife, and once again the stone was knocked from the air.

Toothless gave a soft bark, leaving his tongue lolling out, and jumped up onto all fours. He crouched down, wiggling his bottom in the air, and looked at Hiccup eagerly.

“You get the idea, huh?” Hiccup grinned, showing one of the stones at Toothless. “All right, let’s give it a go.”

With one eye still on Toothless, he threw the largest of the stones into the air. Elsa fired her ice, and in the same moment Toothless fired – properly fired, a sharp white-hot fireball with a thrust of his head and his flaps back and streamlined.

The stone fell wrapped in ice, and the fire whipped above it. Hiccup gave a delighted laugh. “Looks like she pipped you there, bud! Wanna go for two out of three?”

He gave Elsa what he hoped was a winning smile, and after only a moment’s pause she chuckled, bowing her head. “Very well.”

“Looks like you’re on,” said Hiccup to the dragon, whose tongue was still lolling out of the side of his mouth. “Let’s see who yields first.”

 

 

 

 

 

He wished that he could have been recording his findings in the Book of Dragons, but that was not an option with either copy. How long the Night Fury was, how wide his wingspan, how many flaps there were around the base of his skull. What types of fish his preferred, the spots under his chin where he liked to be scratched. His shot limit, six tight fireballs that after the first miss had beaten Elsa’s ice to the stone every single time.

Without a Book of Dragons, he turned to his journal instead, flipping over the whole book and writing on the back page, in the tiniest writing that he could manage. He wrote down everything that he could about Toothless, and about the other dragons that they were starting to see on their nightly flights as well.

There had been the pair of wild Gronckles, who had looked at them warily and growled at Hiccup until he offered up the dried fish in his bag. They weren’t too sure about letting him touch them even after that, but they definitely enjoyed the kipper. There had been the Seashockers skimming through the water below, dual blue shapes skimming through the tips of the waves, which Toothless had been happy to hover twenty feet above but would approach no more closely.

And then, of course, there had been the Terrible Terrors. It said in the Book of Dragons that they were flock animals, but they were not all that common on Berk, and the one that they had in the arena was an oddity. By itself, it could certainly spit some fire and cause a painful bite, but it was mostly its agility and the small target that it made which made it seem like any sort of threat.

To tell the truth, Hiccup was more than a little nervous when he landed on a small rocky island one sunset and found himself greeted by dozens of glittering eyes from among the trees. Staying in the saddle which he had made from appropriated bits of leather – though he did quite like the patchwork effect, for all of the extra hours it had taken – Hiccup froze, watching the eyes sparking by the last rays of the sun, until one of them shifted, flunk forward, and took off from the trees to hang on the air before him.

Terrible Terrors. The first one was pale blue, with a purplish tinge in the twilight, and it turned its head from side to side to regard Hiccup and Toothless before flying closer. Hiccup raised a hand and reached out, offering up his palm; as his fingers straightened, the Terror sniffed his hand, flew all the way around it, then completely ignored it and flew down to perch on a rock not far from them, almost on Hiccup’s eye-level.

“Hey there, little guy,” said Hiccup, lowering his hand again. “Those your buddies up there?”

The Terror squawked. There was a rustling of wings in the trees, not all that dissimilar to the sound of leaves in strong winds. It still prompted that moment of nervousness, but it was nothing like as bad as the fear that he had felt the first time that he came face to face with Toothless.

“Hang on, I’ve got something here you might be interested in.

Cocking its head sharply back and forth, the Terror watched as Hiccup pulled his satchel into his lap, unwrapped a smaller leather bundle from within, and held up a bunch of thick green grass. Toothless sniffed at the air.

“You want to give this a try? Toothless likes it.”

Toothless had liked it enough to land them in a clearing full of the stuff, and roll around as if he were discovering a new feather bed. Finally, dazed and grinning with his tongue lolling out, he had needed to be tugged and cajoled out of the expanse in order to take to the to the air once again. On the second evening, Hiccup had gone prepared, and had dug some up to bring back to the cove and plant, trying to explain to Elsa what he had seen and struggling to do so before bursting out laughing.

“It’s called dragon nip,” he told the Terrible Terror. “Because somebody nipped my fingers while he was trying to get it off me.”

He nudged Toothless with his knee, and got a grumble in reply. Grinning, Hiccup waved the dragon nip temptingly, and the Terror fluttered over to take a sniff. Its eyes widened, it took a bite, then turned and screeched something to the others.

The next thing that Hiccup knew, the air around him was full of wings. He yelped and dropped the dragon nip, whereupon at least a dozen of the Terrors landed on the ground and tried squabbling over it. A couple of other enterprising dragons had realised that Hiccup still had a lot on his lap, and were attempting to carry it off. Hiccup grabbed as much as he could and scattered it away, clearing the air of some of them, but he must have missed some from the way that they kept diving in.

Even in the midst of flying claws and teeth, he had to admit that they were leaving him completely unharmed. There were one or two gentle, testing nibbles on his fingertips, but that was all; mostly it was just daunting to have so many wings flapping and brushing against his face, the sound filling his ears. Something grazed too close to his left eye, and he jerked away, losing his grip on the saddle with his thighs and falling off with a muffled yell.

If it had been daunting in the air, it was claustrophobic on the ground. Hiccup tried to squirm away from the mass of Terrible Terrors, but they were _everywhere_ , filling his view and bouncing off his arms and legs with every movement that he made. He felt his chest tightening, breath coming faster as panic rose despite every repetition to himself he made that they were not after him, just the dragon nip that he had been carrying.

His panting turned into a nasal wheeze, he pushed away again, and suddenly with a shriek that tore the sky, Toothless whirled, snapped his tail against the air, and fired. With frightened cries, the Terrible Terrors scattered to the air, exploding outwards and taking to the trees, while Toothless spun and growled at them until he finally came face to face with Hiccup.

“It’s all right,” said Hiccup, unable to get his breath enough to sound as if he meant it. He patted Toothless’s nose with a shaking hand. “It’s all right, Toothless. They didn’t mean it.”

Which didn’t stop his arms from shaking as he pushed himself to a seated position again. He was smeared with Terrible Terror droppings, as well, which was going to take some washing, but at least he was used to that smell from the arena.

Looking round, he was halted at the sight of the one Terror which had not flown away. It was still standing on the ground, coughing weakly, the inside of its mouth singed. Hiccup rolled onto his knees and reached for it; it skittered back a few steps.

“Hey, hey! I’m not going to hurt you,” he said. He gave Toothless a sideways glance, but it was only disappointment and not anger. He knew that the dragon had only been trying to protect him. “It’s all right. Let me have a look.”

Finally, the Terror let him scoop it up and pull it over onto his lap. It resisted for a moment as he put his fingers to the corner of its mouth, then allowed him to press its mouth open to reveal tiny, sharp teeth and a flat forked tongue. The underside of its tongue and corners of its mouth were still pink and wet, but large stretches of its palate were reddened and sore, the inside of the cheek almost blackened. Hiccup winced.

“Wow, got you good, huh, little guy? Toothless, that was a bit excessive. Looks like these guys aren’t so fireproof on the inside.”

Fire against a dragon’s hide did nothing; that was why it was in so much demand, a fireproof leather suitable for anything from rooves to making blacksmiths’ gloves. If, unlike Gobber, you actually required gloves.

“You going to be okay? I don’t exactly have anything with me that will treat a burn.”

For a response, the Terror turned, shrieked to Toothless’s face, then wriggled out of Hiccup’s grasp and flew off after the others.

“Eat some snow!” Hiccup shouted after it, then realised that doing so was remarkably useless as even his own species did not listen to him, never mind others. Toothless nuzzled against his side. “And you, don’t bully the little dragons.” It was meant to be stern, but turned tender midway through, and he stroked the dragon’s cheek. “I know, you meant well. Put it in the book as protectiveness, huh?”

Maybe one day, he occasionally dared to hope, he would be able to share what he had learnt about them.

 

 

 

 

 

It was no surprise, with too few hours in the day and too many bruises from trying to work out how to ride a dragon, that Hiccup often felt as if he was on the verge of falling asleep. For years, he’d actually struggled to sleep, unable to stop having ideas and thinking of things, then not being able to find clean paper on which to write them down before they fled him. Now, though, he didn’t think that would be a problem.

“I heard,” Snotlout was saying one evening, as they waited for night to fall properly so that they could look at the difference between the fires of the dragons, “that there’s this type of mushroom in the forest, and if you eat it, your spirit leaves your body and you can fly.”

“By all means,” said Astrid. “Go and try to find it.”

“Oh, oh, I got one,” said Ruffnut. “I heard that Gobber can skin a yak with his teeth in under a minute.”

“Oh, yeah?” countered Tuffnut. “Well _I_ heard that Hiccup’s got a secret wildling girlfriend that he goes sneaking out to see at night.”

Hiccup, who had at that particular moment been trying to neaten up the pile of shields in the armoury, jumped so hard that weaponry came crashing down all around him. He stormed over to the open door and looked round it to see the others looking in his direction in shock.

“What- where would you hear that?” He demanded. Tuffnut looked eminently surprised that Hiccup was even daring to talk to him, and to be fair Hiccup would probably not have done had he not had about six hours’ sleep in the previous three nights. “Who said that?”

“I dunno,” Tuffnut said, with a shrug. “I just heard it. That’s why it’s called the ‘I Heard’ game.”

And now everyone was actually paying attention to him, which was probably not a good idea in case they noticed how scratched his right arm was from where he had fallen into a holly bush two nights ago following a particularly inelegant landing. Hiccup shook his head in what he hoped was a dignified way, and went back to trying to not get himself killed by inanimate but very sharp objects.

“Wildling girlfriend,” he muttered to himself. “Yeah, right. As if my life would actually involve something other than dangerous failure right now.”

In his defence, though, he would count the fact that he managed to dodge the battle axe that almost fell on him a moment later. Apparently his reactions were better than they used to be.

 

 

 

 

 

Around the time that it really became clear that Astrid was going to be the one to get to kill the Monstrous Nightmare, Hiccup became aware of just how much he was annoying her.

He wasn’t quite sure when it had started, although it might have had something to do with the way that he and Fishlegs knew the answer to just about any question that Gobber asked, and had started up an impromptu competition between themselves to see who could deliver it quicker. It might have been to do with the time that he got covered in dragon nip, after Toothless once again decided to roll around in a field of it, and upon getting one sniff of him in the arena the Gronckle had licked his face and rolled over on its side in front of him. It wouldn’t have been so bad first thing in the morning, by himself, but no – all of the other teens were lined up behind him ready to fight the Gronckle. Which showed about as much inclination to fight anything as it did to read poetry. Hiccup had to sheepishly help Gobber roll it back into its pen, and they’d gone with the Nadder that day instead.

Then again, it might have been the time that he sort of saved her life from the Zippleback. Because, to be fair, that was probably about the worst thing that he could have done in terms of having Astrid hate him.

A stray axe from Snotlout was all that it had taken to leave Astrid on the ground with no weapons and without even the bucket of water that she had been given to soak the Zippleback’s ignition head. The damn thing hadn’t had its pen aired out in a couple of days to build up the gas, and Hiccup could see it preparing to light the gas coiling around the arena, before there was even going to be time for one of the others to throw water over the offending head. So he did the only thing that seemed appropriate at the time.

He slapped the Zippleback’s nearer tail.

The effect was more impressive than it had any right to be. Both of the Zippleback’s heads snapped round, and Hiccup had to duck as its tails lashed back and forth. As soon as they came into sight of the heads, both sets of eyes narrowed, and within seconds the Hideous Zippleback, venomous, nightmarish, Fear-Class dragon, was chasing its own tail round in circles as its gas slowly dissipated to reveal that Hiccup was the only one close to it.

Well, he had to act as if he’d learnt _something_ from watching Toothless chase his tail, rather than just sitting with Elsa and laughing until his sides hurt.

Clearing his throat awkwardly, he sidled off and made a break for it before anybody could ask exactly what he had done. But it hadn’t been so quickly that he had missed the way that Astrid’s eyes had narrowed as well, and he knew her well enough to be concerned by that. If it had been Snotlout, that would have been one thing. But Astrid was smart enough to ask questions, and Hiccup of all people knew that was a considerably more dangerous thing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Froglegs and Piglegs Ingerman are characters mentioned by Fishlegs in the _School of Dragons_ online game, although their relationship to Fishlegs is not specified and Piglegs at least is supposed to be male. I've repurposed the names as younger siblings for Fishlegs because in this setting, the likelihood is that families will run to the larger side.
> 
> Toothless having a shot limit of six is established during the TV series, and doesn't seem to appear in the first film. I've run with it because, like Aladdin only getting three wishes, it means that those shots have to be used more carefully.
> 
> The twins reference the 'I Heard' game in the TV series, specifically _Race to Fireworm Island_ in _Defenders of Berk_.


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: this chapter gets a little darker than previous, including dragon death, discussion thereof, and talk about the eating of dragon meat. The eating of dragon meat appears in the Hiccup Series of books, and is alluded to in _The Night and the Fury_ from Dragons: Defenders of Berk.

“That’s it,” said Gobber. “Make sure that strap’s good and tight. Don’t want him biting down again.”

Even knowing that this was only the sparking head of the Hideous Zippleback, and that the head that produced gas was safely strapped up still, Hiccup could not help but feel nervous as Gobber readied his files and wire brushes. The last thing that they wanted, he said, was a dragon with a bad tooth – it was a sure way to make them meaner and more unpredictable, more inclined to do something that might get someone hurt.

“Right, that looks good,” he said, approval in his voice as he looked over Hiccup’s work. He hooked up a stool from the far side of the table, put it down in front of the dragon’s open mouth, and sat down. “Hmm. A bit mucky, but I’ve seen worse.” He grimaced. “Breath could be improved, though.”

“I can’t imagine that dragons like eating mint,” said Hiccup. Stepping back, he put his hands on the table for want of anything to do with them, then leant down so that he could rest on his elbows instead. “You do this to all of the dragons?”

“Not the Nightmare. They’re only ever here a few moons, it’s not work it,” said Gobber. He used his hook to hold the Zippleback’s tongue aside, and selected a thin metal pick to touch at a few of the back teeth, testing. “But these others, who stay here all year? Oh yes, they need their teeth cleaning.”

“And there’s never been an accident,” Hiccup added. He watched Gobber carefully, but the man did not seem to notice as he scraped at a tooth, sniffed at the pick, and pulled a face.

“Not in over ten years,” said Gobber proudly.

He thought about Toothless, and the outrageous power that he had unleashed on the defences, then the gentle puffs of flame that he could produce to light a fire for Elsa come the evening. As Gobber swapped to a wire brush and started scrubbing at the Zippleback’s lower right teeth, Hiccup examined his nails, picking at dirt that wasn’t there. “You’ve been working with dragons for a long time without getting hurt.”

“Just got to be careful! Make sure they’ve reached their shot limit, get water on the spark if you can, and always keep a weapon at hand. If these beasts know who’s boss, makes them more likely to behave. Now, here, look,” he gestured to the teeth. “Not like you and me, huh? No incisors or canines or whatever on dragons, all the teeth are pretty much the same. Never worry about taking one out if it’s bad, they keep growing them all through their lives.”

“How do we know that?”

“We’ve seen older dragons over the years,” said Gobber. “At least, we’re pretty sure they’re older. They get weaker, and they’ve usually got more scars and the like. Don’t show it as much as humans, though,” he added, with a chuckle. He swapped out the first wire brush for a narrower one, with short angled bristles that could get down between the teeth. Since childhood, Hiccup had seen them, but never previously realised what they were for; Gobber had to make them himself, cursing the iron when it was not good enough to make the wires that took such concentration to create in the forge. “But they’ve always got a full set of teeth on them, sometimes with ones just erupting. Be easier if we could do the same.” The bulge of his cheek suggested that he was prodding one of his own false teeth thoughtfully.

Hiccup picked up one of the picks, turning it over between his fingers. It was sharp and sturdy, certainly not something that he would give to the twins even with supervision, but he supposed that he could see the resemblance to wooden toothpicks that he was used to seeing and using. “Is this the most dangerous part of caring for them, then?”

“Hiccup,” said Gobber, with a sigh. He lowered his tools, and Hiccup straightened up, suspecting that he was about to be told to stop being such a distraction. “Being around dragons is always dangerous. Doesn’t matter whether you’re feeding them, cleaning their teeth, or doing up one of their wounds. They’re wild beasts, and they can always turn on you. And sometimes I think they’re a little too smart,” he added, in a tone that for him counted as grim, with a looked towards the Zippleback.

The Zippleback looked back without any sign of fear, but without really much defiance either. If Hiccup assign to it any feeling, he probably would have said that it looked resigned to having its mouth held and strapped open while its teeth and tongue were prodded, poked and scraped. Of course, the shackles on its feet and straps over its wings might have added to that effect. It was certainly a far cry from the time that Hiccup had made a game of throwing bits of fish between the two heads to see which one could move more quickly to catch it. The sparking head was better with high ones, but the gas head had surprising speed to it.

“Do you ever wonder about that smartness? Like, maybe we wouldn’t need all of these straps if we could just persuade them to stay still?” Hiccup gestured to the work that it had taken to restrain the Zippleback.

With a bark of laughter, Gobber threw down the brush and picked up a file. “Persuade a dragon! That’ll be the day! No, Hiccup,” he continued, sobering. “Remember, they’re only here so we can learn to fight them. They aren’t pets. They’re not even like the farm animals, not really, because those are safe to feel affection for. Though,” he turned back to the Zippleback, and set to work with the file. “if you could farm dragons, you’d get good meat off them. My aunt Slugger had a great recipe for Whispering Death and porcini stew. Wish she’d shared it, might have something to remember her by.”

Crops were safer from dragons than animals or fish, that much was true, but Berk’s ground was never the best and they had to rely on fish and meat to make up a good chunk of their diet. In leaner years, when dragon attacks had been worse, that had meant eating the dragon meat as well. Hiccup felt a sudden wave of nausea, and had to swallow several times before he could be sure that he was not going to be sick. He focused on a point on the far wall and told himself that it had been years since he had last seen dragon meat; though Stoick did his best not to be set apart by being chief, most of Berk would insist that he have ‘good’ meat, yak or mutton or goat, rather than dragon.

It didn’t stop him from tasting bile in his throat.

“Pass me the lagu-shaped pick, will you?” said Gobber, not looking round from where he was grimacing into the Zippleback’s mouth. “I might have a tooth needs removing here. Need to see if I can clean this out. New teeth coming in are always sharp, but it’s safer if we blunt them a little.”

Of course, he was still supposed to be learning about how to keep them for fighting. Hiccup looked blindly at the tools in front of him for a moment before his brain kicked back in and he grabbed the appropriate pick to hand over. He resolved to find some treat for Toothless this evening, perhaps to find something nice for each of the dragons still in the pens. Even if it would not begin to make up for what had happened, perhaps it could at least give them a brighter day.

 

 

 

 

 

Just when he thought that things couldn’t actually get any worse than having to hide a wildling and a Night Fury within two hours’ hike of the village, life decided to make things even more difficult. There had been another dragon attack – during which Hiccup had actually done as he was told and waited inside, and held his breath for a Night Fury scream that never came – and Gobber was needed to organise some of the rebuilding in the village. As a result, he’d called a halt to training for a few days, and left Hiccup to run the arena.

The first day was almost frightening. The dragons needed feeding and mucking out daily, and because they couldn’t be fed with muzzles on all but the Gronckle – still aggressive most of the time – were not muzzled while their pens were closed. Armed only with a broom and a cloth bag full of the dragon nip that Toothless had seemed to like so much, Hiccup crept towards the door for the Nadder and opened it.

The Nadder looked at him, cocked her head, and raised her tail warningly. Hiccup grabbed a tuft of grass out of the bag and held it out, turning his eyes away. “It’s all right, girl,” he said. “Just need to clean this place up for you.”

She sniffed at the dragon nip, then ate it out of his hand, throwing her head back to swallow. Hiccup froze for a moment, hand still extended, then a scaly cheek nudged against his palm, followed by a long wet lick. With a relieved laugh, he scratched the Nadder behind her crest, and grimaced at the shallow cut still open on the back of her neck.

“Astrid got you good there, didn’t she?” he said. He moved his hand closer, and the Nadder tolerated the touch for a moment before pulling away with a huff. “Well, it doesn’t look infected.”

This Deadly Nadder had been at the arena for three years, Gobber had said – three seasons of recruits learning to fight it and probably trying to kill it. The previous one had been killed during a visit by the chief of the Shivering Shores, who had demanded the right to fight a dragon in the arena. Hiccup went back to the scratching, and was rewarded with a low-pitched trilling sound.

“Now go on, stretch your legs while I muck out the pen,” he said with an affectionate pat.

The Nadder obliged, walking out into the Arena and pacing around, stretching out her wings but not trying to take off, and occasionally butting things with her nose. Hiccup mucked out the cage, scraped a few fish guts off the floor, and threw a few buckets of water over it in an attempt to make it look cleaner. It didn’t smell great in any of the pens, to be honest; the _dragony_ part didn’t concern him so much now, but they tended to be damp and rotten-fishy, and he didn’t want to think what it was like to be locked in them in the dark. No wonder the Nadder looked happier for a wander around.

Loading up the wheelbarrow, Hiccup sighed. “Come on, girl, got to get you away again or Gobber will be unhappy.”

He pointed to the pen, but the Nadder looked at it firmly and then actually shook her head, prancing back a few steps.

“Oh, come on...” He was supposed to have muzzled her and attached the chain to stop her from getting too far away from the door – Gobber had shown him that trick, and how to do it quite literally one-handed. Hiccup had been trying to be kinder about it. He walked towards the Nadder, who flared her wings and started backing around the arena walls. “Really? We’re going to do this? Look, I really don’t want to do the shield thing to get you to go back in. Come on.”

It took extensive wheedling, three fish, and another handful of dragon nip to finally coax the Nadder back into her pen, and Hiccup almost regretted letting her out in the first place. With a heavy sigh, he turned to the Gronckle and hauled down on the lever – newly greased, at least – that opened its door.

“Hey, big fella, how are you... oh, Thor’s left boot.”

Apparently there was a reason that the arena had been cut down into pretty much solid granite. The Gronckle looked to have spent the night burrowing into the back wall, and was currently sleeping on a pile of rubble in the further corner of the pen. Rolling his eyes, Hiccup grabbed another tuft of dragon nip and picked up the ruined muzzle from the floor. It looked to have been melted away, and there were lumps of what looked almost like glass adhering to it. Well, there was another job to add to the list. Tossing the muzzle outside, he walked slowly towards the Gronckle. Gravel crunched beneath his feet, and its eyes opened sharply, almost rolling around until they came to fix squarely on Hiccup.

“Look, I know the pen’s boring, but a pile of rocks isn’t exactly the height of interior design, you know,” he said. 

The Gronckle growled, eyes narrowing and ears flattening outwards, but Hiccup offered up the dragon nip and it relaxed again.

“There we go, see? Just little old Hiccup, nothing to worry about.” He gave it a scratch under the chin. “Go on, go and have a fly about. I’d better clear this up before Gobber sees it.”

What he was going to do about the great big hole in the wall, he wasn’t too sure yet, but he could at least make a start by clearing up the rubble on the floor. The Gronckle did not deign to move, and Hiccup gave it a shove until it finally reared up off the pile, wings buzzing furiously. It only moved to a few feet away, though, and continued giving Hiccup a glare.

Maybe it was more comfortable for them to sleep on rocks. “Look, maybe I can talk to Gobber and see if we can get you some rocks to make nests out of. Although, are you sure hay wouldn’t be more comfortable? I mean, some of these edges have _got_ to dig...”

Oh. _Oh_. Hiccup had only moved a few handfuls of rubble off the top when he found himself looking at a small, crystal-blue... egg. There was no denying it, that was definitely a Gronckle egg, and his joking about making nests had been a little too accurate.

“You made a nest for your babies,” he said, more quietly now, and dropped back onto his haunches. Gobber had told him that it was best to get the eggs and smash them before they hatched, out of sight of the mother otherwise she would pretty much go wild. If he went and told Gobber that they were here, doubtless that was what would happen.

And once again, he was failing at being a Viking, because he just didn’t want to destroy them.

This was bad. This was really, really bad. Hiccup wove his fingers into his hair and tightened his grip on it, desperately trying to think of a solution. It wasn’t as if he could just leave them here, after all; he had a day or two at most before Gobber looked in the pens again, and Gobber had said that the eggs took a few days from laying to hatching.

He cleared away a bit more rock, and scooped his hands underneath the egg. There would be others, deeper in the pile, of course. It was rough to the touch, comfortably warm in his hands, and about the size of his head. He could probably carry several, weight-wise, but the size of them was the issue. He couldn’t exactly load them into a wheelbarrow and carry them off, and he wasn’t sure whether baby dragons would survive on their own anyway.

Behind him, the Gronckle rumbled warningly as he tested the weight of its – her – egg. “It’s all right,” he said, trying to sound more confident than he felt. “We’ll figure this out. But I can’t leave them here. Gobber will find them and...” he couldn’t say it, and didn’t want to think of Gobber doing it. “Well, I won’t leave them here.”

In the end, there was only one place that he could think of where he might be able to successfully hide dragon eggs and possibly baby dragons as well. He just hoped that Night Furies and Gronckles got along all right.

 

 

 

 

 

The Gronckle didn’t want him to take two of her eggs that afternoon and load it into the bag of dragon nip. She snapped at him once or twice, rumbled threateningly, but didn’t shoot fire at him as he tried his best to talk reassuringly and explain through movements and tone of voice that this was the only thing he could do. He’d have to get around the edge of the village to head towards the cove, and could only really fit two in a sack before it started to get unwieldy. But that was a lesser problem. He’d just have to do it in several trips to move the eight eggs that he had found in the rubble and carefully covered up again before he left.

The sack was heavy, but not unbearably so, and was mostly cumbersome on his shoulder as he skirted around the village towards the border with the Wildlands on the south-western side. He was about a quarter of the way into the journey, and beginning to wonder whether the wheelbarrow had been such a bad idea as it started to spit with rain again, when someone jumped down from one of the trees right in front of him and sent him staggering into a rock.

“Afternoon, _Hiccup_.”

“Astrid!” he said, trying not to sound too strangled. The eggs in his bag knocked against the rock, and he cringed. “Wh- what are you doing out here?”

“Waiting for you,” she said flatly. She was holding a hand axe, the edge shining even in the rather questionable sunlight. “Tuffnut’s wildling girlfriend theory might be a load of yak dung, but you _have_ been sneaking out. And then there’s the matter of the dragons.”

“Dragons? What dragons?” Oh, Thor, she was advancing on him. Hiccup backed up in a slightly different direction, and found himself pressed against a tree and hugging the sack of eggs to his chest instead.

Astrid put her axe on her shoulder and flicked her hair out of her eyes with a toss of her head. “The dragons in the arena. Unless there’s some other dragons.”

All right, going past Thor and praying straight to Loki for a way to get out of this one now. Hiccup aimed for nonchalant once again. “Well, there were quite a few flying around last night.”

“And you weren’t out and about with them this time.” She cocked her head. “Why is that?”

“Maybe I just didn’t want to steal your thunder.”

All things considered, this would be a really good time for the ground to open up and swallow him, partially because he was walking through these woods so often that he really was starting to get concerned about leaving a trail to the cove, but mostly because he had two dragon eggs clutched to his chest.

Astrid’s eyes were narrowed. “Well, whatever reason, you’d better keep out of the way. Throwing yourself in front of dragons? Is stupid. You’re going to get yourself killed, and at this rate you’re going to take the rest of us with you. Stay out of the way of the fighters, Hiccup. Stay out of _my_ way.”

He really didn’t think that there was any way to react to that threat that wasn’t going to end with the axe buried in something in the near vicinity. And at that point, he could only hope the something was a tree. Instead, Hiccup kept his lips pressed firmly together and waited for Astrid to be the one to break contact and stalk away in the general direction of Berk.

“Better think of a good excuse for this one,” he muttered to himself, once she was long gone. Somehow he doubted that the secret wildling girlfriend line would cut it.

 

 

 

 

 

He got to the cove in time to see Toothless balancing on his hind legs and batting at a floating snowflake, a look on his face that was frankly quite close to being a grin. Despite the terror of the eggs, and how that had been compounded by Astrid’s threat, Hiccup couldn’t help laughing. The snowflake came to rest on Toothless’s nose, he went cross-eyed trying to see it, and Hiccup just laughed harder until he had to sit down on the rocks to keep from falling over.

There was something absurd about it, the sight of the dragon all of Berk feared, the unholy offspring of lightning and death itself, trying to bat at a snowflake balanced on its own nose. Of course, there was a dark edge to the humour – he wasn’t sure how many deaths, how many injuries, Night Fury fire had been responsible for. But it had been the catapults and siege towers, every time, that had been the targets.

Elsa flicked her wrist, letting the snowflake melt away to a disappointed rumble from Toothless, and picked up her trollwort bracelet from where it sat beside her. She got stiffly to her feet and walked over to where Hiccup was sitting. “You are having a good day?”

“Well, not particularly,” he admitted. “But that,” a gesture in the direction of Toothless, who was now looking on the ground to see if the snowflake had fallen somewhere, “did improve it a bit.”

Elsa smiled shyly. Her hair was loose and clean, for the first time that he had seen, and in hand-me-down clothes appropriated from the smithy’s rag collection she looked worn around the edges, but unremarkable. The cast on her leg would probably be the most noticeable thing at the moment, and even that had been on for nearly two moons now. She barely limped; it would probably be all right to come off.

“I... oh, I really don’t know how I’m going to say this.” Hiccup half-jumped, half-slid down to the ground, bringing his bag of eggs with him. Toothless trotted over, probably hoping for either fish or a flight, then paused and sniffed curiously at the bag. His plates went back, and he growled low in his chest. “That’s not helping,” said Hiccup.

“What is it?”

“That would be...” he scooped one of the eggs out, just about managing to balance it on one hand, and dropped it gently into Elsa’s waiting grip. She frowned but took hold of it, and he could see the small movements of her hand as she tested the weight. “A dragon egg.”

Elsa jumped so sharply that for a moment he worried she would drop the egg altogether, but then she snatched it to her chest, gripping it so hard that her knuckles turned even whiter. “What?”

“The Gronckle at the training arena,” he said with a sigh. “She laid eggs, and if Gobber, well, if _anyone_ finds them they’ll be destroyed, and I can only really carry two at a time...”

“What are you going to do with them?”

As tempting as it was, he was not going to give them to her and make a run for it. Hiccup took a deep breath. “She made a nest out of rock. I’m going to see if I can do the same. Nobody knows much about actually hatching dragon eggs, so I’m sort of hoping that Toothless might be some help with that one.”

Elsa gave Toothless a glance over her shoulder.

“Yeah, I know, but there’s no other dragons we could get to help.” He didn’t have a clue how old Toothless even was – Vikings weren’t all that big on finding out how long dragons lived naturally, seeing as they were more up for shortening those lifespans – and wasn’t sure that the term ‘adult’ could really be applied to a creature that had licked its genitals in front of them on more than one occasion. But it really was the only option he could think of that might actually end in the eggs hatching. “And hopefully when they hatch they’ll be able to fly pretty quickly, and when one of the attacks happen one night they’ll just... fly off with the other Gronckles.”

And not get shot down. He didn’t voice that part aloud, both because of the reminder of what he had done to Toothless and because it just really didn’t bear thinking about with hatchlings.

For a moment, Elsa looked around her little camp, lips pressed tightly together. Hiccup tried not to look too pleadingly at her. It had been her who had first tried to help the Night Fury, ungrateful as Toothless had originally been, even when Hiccup had still been afraid. Now he watched as her eyes scanned the cove, lingered on the dragon egg that she held, then finally came to rest on Hiccup as she sighed.

“All right.”

He could have hugged her. But doing that to anyone in Berk tended to involve slamming into them and getting a strange look, so Hiccup had long since learnt to restrain himself to a look of abject gratitude and a relieved smile.

“You want a nest of rock?” she said nodding towards the cliffs. “Or would a pit work better?”

 

 

 

 

 

They ended up settling on a pit lined with rocks, and Elsa set to digging as Hiccup hurried back towards Berk with the empty bag still clutched in his hand. Carrying the two eggs had been about the limit of what he could easily do, and since it was getting overcast it was going to be difficult to see if he didn’t get a move on. He should be able to do another run before dinner, move the last ones overnight–

His train of thought was abruptly cut off as he was grabbed by the scruff of the neck and pulled up into the air for far from the first time in his life. “Hey!”

“Boats have been sighted,” said Gobber. “Come on, let’s get down to the wharves.”

Hiccup felt his heart jump, though it might have been jumping sideways. If the boats were back, it should mean that his father was. “Well, can I get down, then?” Gobber lowered him to the floor, and Hiccup reached round to make sure that there was not a hole in the back of his shirt from where the hook had scooped him up. “How long?”

“We’ll just about beat them there, probably. Wind’s behind them. Come on.”

Of course, Gobber probably had his own share of relief that the boats were back. Hiccup had to trot to keep up with him as they made their way down to the wharves, and fell back on the time-honoured tradition of letting Gobber part the crowd and just following along in the wake before they closed up behind him again.

Three boats had gone out, over a moon ago now. Only one had come back, so packed with people they must have barely had room to sit side-by-side on the benches. For a moment, Hiccup was frozen with fear, but then he saw his father stand up to be the first off the boat and offered thanks to Odin or Thor or whoever had been listening. To judge by Stoick’s scowl, he was in no mood for an embrace, and Gobber did not even dare pat him on the shoulder as he strode through the waiting crowds hoping to welcome people back.

“Any luck?” said Gobber, more hopefully than the question really deserved.

“Not even close,” Stoick growled.

“Oh,” said Gobber. “Well, that’s... that.”

“How have things been here?” Stoick aimed the question at Gobber, but his gaze shifted across to Hiccup and softened slightly. “You’re all well?”

“It’s been going great.” Gobber clapped Hiccup on the back so hard that he almost fell forwards, and certainly felt relieved that it was the hand and not the hook. “Hiccup’s got a way with the dragons.”

Hiccup couldn’t really summon the will to be offended when Stoick looked surprised at that. “I’m... glad to hear it,” said Stoick, haltingly.

Gobber smiled, probably glad to have hit on something that wasn’t going to devolve into ranting about the dragons and all of the damage they had done. Even the one ship that had come back was charred around the edges, the prow lost and the sails ripped. It was going to mean more work to replace the boats that they had lost, even if they would hopefully have little need of warships over the winter. There wasn’t much time left in the sailing season, but you never knew what would happen.

“And now you’re back, I can see to getting the arena ready for the selection of the champion tomorrow. I reckon Gothi’s already got her mind made up, but you know how it is. Best let everyone see. Come on, let’s get you home, and then we can nip up to the arena and get the place ready for tomorrow, can’t we Hiccup?”

Perfect. Just Thor’s-damned perfect.

 

 

 

 

 

Gobber found the eggs. The Gronckle had to be shackled before they could be removed, her snout bound closed with iron, and even then she thrashed and slavered lava as Gobber loaded the eggs into a barrow and wheeled them away. A howl left her throat as he rounded the corner, muted by the muzzle, but all that Hiccup could do was apologise with his eyes as the doors were closed on her again.

Somehow, Gothi communicated that the Zippleback was to be used for this year’s test, and that Astrid and Snotlout were to be the two put forward for it. Stoick was apparently proud enough of Hiccup that he stood beside him, hand on his shoulder, as Snotlout and Astrid ducked and wove their way around the arena, until Astrid finally landed a stunning blow to one of the heads and then jumped in to wrestle the other one to the ground and plunge it into a bucket of water, holding it there until it stopped thrashing about. Gobber quickly removed the head from the water again, before any damage could be done by unconsciousness, and it was declared that Astrid would be the one to kill the Monstrous Nightmare.

There was supposed to be a feast that night at the Great Hall, in celebration – the killing of the Nightmare itself was really a formality, and for auspice’s sake, it would be two nights from now – but Hiccup could not face it. Feigning a dizzy spell, he waved off his father’s and Gobber’s concerns and said that he just needed to sleep. He could see the flicker of worry in Stoick’s eyes, that he was going back to being the sickly boy he had once been, but couldn’t feel wrong about it. The sickness coursing through him after the Gronckle eggs had been destroyed was too strong.

Hiccup waited just long enough to hear the front door closed before he was climbing out of the window again. He dropped to the ground and started running, knowing there would be almost no sentries out tonight, barely able to think enough to care anyway. Thin branches whipped at his face, and his lungs burned, but he just pushed harder, the ragged panting of his breath feeling like a poor substitute for actual tears.

He wasn’t sure how long he ran, but when he finally slowed to a walk he was over halfway to the cove. His legs ached and felt weak at the same time. Hiccup slapped a branch out of the way, punched the trunk of a tree hard enough for it to jar along his arm, and then set to rubbing his knuckles as he stormed on.

Gobber was a good man. That wasn’t even in doubt. He was a good man, and had been a good second father to Hiccup. A good teacher, a good mentor, good blacksmith to keep the island all in order and capable of defending itself. And still he had put the eggs in the barrow and carted them off with barely a second thought and without a look back at the Gronckle – the _mother_ – from whom he was taking them.

It hurt too much to catch his breath, and his eyes were watering. Berkians were good people. Were _his_ people. And they had been killing dragons for so long because dragons killed them, but Hiccup didn’t know how far back it went or how it had even started. Could it have been a Viking that spilled the first blood? Toothless hadn’t hurt them, hadn’t even seemed to want to save for when he was injured and scared in the rain that very first day, and Hiccup had been waving a knife at him and gods, it was all too much.

He rubbed his eyes with the heels of his hands, and fought the urge to fall to the ground and curl up into a ball. He’d walked this way so many times that he barely even needed to look where he was going. Somewhere behind him, an almighty roar went up; the feast at the Great Hall, he knew, and probably some toast or other being cheered.

Probably a toast about killing dragons.

By the time that he reached the cove, he was a wreck. All that he could hear was the Gronckle’s howl as her eggs were taken away, see her beseeching eyes to perhaps the one human that had ever talked kindly to her, and Hiccup had just stood and watched it happen. How many dragons had been killed by the members of the village? Almost _everyone_ had killed one; most had killed ten or more and wore their numbers proudly. Every family had lost someone to dragons, but how many had they killed in return?

He needed to fly. With the wind in his hair and his foot on the pedal that controlled Toothless’s tail, he felt like _he_ was the one flying, and it seemed to blur until he wasn’t sure if he was shouting or Toothless was shrieking or perhaps both at the same time. It felt like _freedom_.

“Toothless?” In the darkness, the cloudy night, he lost his footing and fell down the rock altogether. “Thor’s sake! Toothless? Elsa?”

The grass was starting to look trampled, where there had been a Night Fury living in the cove for almost a moon, but it still brushed damply against his legs as he started towards the caves. He rubbed his eyes again.

“Guys? Are you here?”

Elsa appeared first, pale in the shadows, her hair pulled back now and her clothes dirty. “Hiccup? Where are the eggs?”

“They’re gone.” His voice cracked. “He took them, he destroyed them, he...” He couldn’t even say Gobber’s name; it felt too much like blame when Gobber didn’t know, but at the same time he couldn’t understand how _nobody_ knew, how _nobody_ had stopped and thought, how only he in all these years could have done this. It seemed so natural to him. “They’re gone. It’s just those two.”

Her face fell, and she stepped right up to him, raising one hand cautiously but drawing away before she actually touched his shoulder. Every breath that Hiccup took felt as if it was shaking something deep down inside. He had to _do_ something. He had to show his father, show them all, that they didn’t have to do this. That after everything that had happened, all the deaths and horrors, they didn’t have to keep doing the same things over and over again.

“I’m sorry,” said Elsa quietly.

“Why are you apologising?” Suddenly, he was laughing, possibly from hysteria. “You’re the only one who hasn’t done anything! You’re the one who’s been running from place to place your whole life because others hate you, and you haven’t even been fighting back like the dragons have!”

Pain crossed Elsa’s face, but he couldn’t even process it, could hardly see through the anger and the feeling like his chest was collapsing in on itself.

“For all you knew, I was going to try to kill you – well, from what you’ve said, that’s all you could have rightly expected. But no, you let me give you food and put your foot in this stupid contraption and teach you a new language, and I mean, I could have been teaching you anything! And then Toothless turns up and your first thought is to help him and, and,” Hiccup felt as if he was trying to grab the words out of the air, but they wouldn’t even come, “and I was the one who shot him down, don’t you get it?”

His words were all running together now, almost slurred with speed, and Elsa was looking bewildered and stepping away from him. Hiccup stopped, out of breath just from shouting, and made a slowing gesture with his hands.

“I’m sorry. I’m sorry, it’s just–”

Which was when an axe buried itself in the ground at his feet.

Hiccup barely had time to give it a stupid look before something slammed into him so hard that he seemed to go from upright to face down on the ground in the blink of an eye. There was a strangely familiar, defiant battle cry, but when he tried to roll away he instead got a fist to the gut for his troubles and doubled over, gasping for breath.

He just about had time to register blonde hair before he was hauled upright again, someone yanking his arm painfully behind his back and putting something very definitely bladed to the side of his neck.

“Stay back!” warned the person holding him. Oh, well, that was just perfect.

“Astrid,” said Hiccup, “what in Odin’s name are you doing?”

“I don’t think _I_ ,” she twisted his arm hard enough for him to grunt in pain, “should be the one answering that. No!” She pointed with the retrieved axe towards Elsa, who had dropped back into a warning crouch and reached towards her hip for a knife that wasn’t there. “You stay right where you are. Where’s the other one?”

“Other one?” said Hiccup. “What are you talking about?”

Astrid’s grip was like iron around his wrist, and how the hell she got that strong he wasn’t sure he even wanted to ask. “You,” she said, still pointing at Elsa. “I recognise you. You’re the one that Hiccup stopped me from capturing.”

“You know, that wasn’t really–” he tried to say.

It was getting noticeably colder. If Hiccup looked closely, he could see the grass around Elsa’s feet starting to freeze, and she wasn’t wearing her trollwort bracelets. Well, this was going to be fun. “Let Hiccup go,” said Elsa, every sound a warning.

“So where are you from?” said Astrid. Elsa started to circle around them, slowly, and even knowing about the cast Hiccup could not see or hear anything that would be a clue to it. “Are you an Outcast? A Weselton spy? An _Arendelle_ one?”

“Arendelle?” Elsa sounded offended, but to judge by the way that Astrid hauled Hiccup between them still, it hadn’t seemed like that to her ears.

“Oh, so that’s it, Arendelle. Nice to know,” she gave Hiccup’s wrist another squeeze, until it felt like his bones were grinding together, “how loyal the _chief’s son_ is. Now tell me: where is the other one? And what’s their _real_ name?”

A lot of things happened all in the same moment. Hiccup realised that Astrid had heard him calling out two names, and that from the way they were standing the caves were now pretty much behind them. With a violent fling of her arm, Elsa sent up a wave of ice that arced across the space between them, curving almost to the water’s edge before biting back in vicious spines, sending Astrid stumbling sideways with a cry of horror. And from behind them, with a protective shriek, Toothless bounded into the fray.

Hiccup hit the ground heavily, with Astrid falling close by him and her axe clattering away. As she tried to grab it, ice shot from the ground in front of her hand in a thick clear sheet, and she gave a shout of frustration and what might have been fear, before rolling over onto her back.

To judge by her scream, that put her face to face with Toothless.

“Stop it!” Hiccup managed to get to his knees and gesture for Elsa to back away. She did not, though she did lower her hands a little, which was probably a start. He looked round to see that Toothless’s plates were right back, his eyes narrowed so that they were hardly visible in the gloom, and his teeth were extended. “And you too!”

Toothless reared his head, teeth flashing dangerously, and Hiccup launched himself in the way before a strike could come. He more-or-less collided with the dragon’s face, then managed to get his feet properly underneath him and put one hand on each of Toothless’s cheeks to look him in the eye.

“Stop,” he said, more quietly. Toothless retracted his teeth, eyes widening a little, and Hiccup finally dared to turn around to face Astrid once again.

“What is going on here?” she demanded – fairly convincingly, he had to admit, for a girl on the ground with no weapon and a dragon growling not five feet away. “Hiccup, what have you done?”

“Oh, you would not believe me if I told you.”

Her eyes narrowed. “Try me.”

“Hiccup?” said Elsa cautiously. Very fine points of snow were starting to form in the air around them, more like a thin frozen mist than any real snowfall. As she curled her hands into fists, he could hear ice cracking. “Who is this?”

“Who am I?” said Astrid. She tried turning her head to see Elsa, but Toothless growled and tried to push past Hiccup and her gaze snapped round again. “Hiccup!”

He gave Toothless a shove backwards. “Bud, calm down.” Only when the pressure against the small of his back gave way did he step to the side, still resting a hand on Toothless’s neck. “And Elsa, it’s all right. She’s a friend.” He sighed. “Elsa, Toothless, this is Astrid, from the village. Astrid, this is Toothless;” beside him, Toothless’s plates twitched in recognition; “and the young lady’s name is Elsa. And if everybody will kindly stop trying to attack each other, it would sincerely help!”

The silence that followed his words might have been a little bit guilty, or that might have been wishful thinking. Astrid scrambled back a couple of feet, sitting up, and angling herself so that she could see both Toothless and Elsa at the same time. Her hair was stuck to her cheek, and she was breathing heavily, eyes still moving between the two. Probably a justified response.

“Astrid, it’s fine. I know it looks strange, but it’s fine. Elsa has _magic_ , we’d call her a wildling but even the wildlings try to attack her but she’s not going to hurt you, she hasn’t hurt me, she’s been nothing but good and kind. And this is Toothless, and he’s not going to hurt you either-”

“It was going to bite me!”

“Well, you did put an axe to my neck,” said Hiccup, with a vague wave in the direction of the weapon. “And he gets a little protective.”

“He?” said Astrid, disbelief dripping off the word. She shook her head, looking at Hiccup as if he had just dropped his breeches in public. “I half-think I’m going to find you sneaking off to meet some girl, and instead you’re... what? Plotting with a wildling and making a pet of a dragon? What has gone wrong in your head?”

She might have been the first to put it in as many words, but she wasn’t the first to ask it. Hiccup extended his hand to help her up, but Astrid gave it a look of disgust.

“I didn’t let Elsa get away,” he admitted. Astrid’s gaze turned a little more curious. “I threw the net that bought her down. She broke her ankle.” Just for a moment, he had to deal with one person at a time, and couldn’t look at Elsa’s face while he was still waiting for Astrid’s response. “But when I went to find my net, I found a person instead. And she was the one who saved Toothless.” He reached his hand a little closer, hoping that something would break through Astrid’s mistrust. “Have you never stopped to think _why_ before fighting, Astrid? Why... anything?”

“Fighting saves lives. _Why_ doesn’t,” she said, but this time there was a tremble of uncertainty beneath it.

“It saved theirs.”

Elsa walked across to Astrid’s axe and scooped it up. Before Hiccup could say anything, she turned, only to throw it into the pool with an anticlimactic splash. At the ice, she hesitated, then lifted her chin and turned her back on them as if they did not matter. Then, and only then, did she walk around and extend her hand down towards Astrid as well, in an offer made just as plain as Hiccup’s.

“My name is Elsa,” she said. Her Northur was still accented, but she spoke clearly and carefully enough to make up for it. “I was born in Arendelle, but I must to enter the Wildlands because I have magic. Many people tried to kill me. But Hiccup did not. He is a good man.”

Man might have been overstating it, when she was four years older than Hiccup, but he was surprised and flattered by her words all the same. Finally, Astrid reached out, and cautiously allowed Elsa to help her to her feet.

“Right, then.” Astrid turned to Hiccup. “You had better have an explanation fit for the gods.”


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter does contain underage drinking and drunkenness (as the modern day would define it, not in the cultural setting), and dirty songs.

He really wished that there was a good explanation for it. The only one that he could give was that it was _right_ , that he just wasn’t made to kill, but he suspected that wasn’t what Astrid meant.

“Is that my shirt?” said Astrid, now looking more pointedly at Elsa. “Is _that_ what happened to the stuff we gave to the smithy?”

“Not all of it,” said Hiccup quickly.

Elsa looked questioning. “It is yours? I did not know, I am sorry.” And, Thor help him, she went as if she was going to take it off in the middle of the cove and Hiccup lunged forwards to grab her hand.

“No! No, that’s not necessary! I’m sure Astrid’s fine with you having it, aren’t you Astrid?”

He looked at Astrid almost desperately, and couldn’t even find words for his relief when she nodded as well. Elsa relaxed, and Hiccup took his hand away, discreetly flexing his fingers to get sensation back into them.

“All right. Let’s go with nobody attacking anybody else, shall we?” He was very firmly trying to ignore the dragon eggs and hope that Astrid hadn’t caught the mention that he had made of them. That really would be the last straw. Hiccup stepped carefully so that he was between the three of them, in the centre of the triangle, and after a moment’s pause turned so that he was facing Astrid. Toothless was a skulking black shape in his peripheral vision, but his wings were folded down again.

“I’m serious, Hiccup,” said Astrid, and if he wasn’t mistaken then there was the slightest hint of a tremble in her voice. “I should be telling your father about this and I _really_ need a reason not to right now.”

“Elsa is just a person!” It came out heavy with exasperation, with a half-furious gesture. “She gathers her food and she lives in the Wildlands and she’s been by herself since she was _eleven years old_ , and when I found her she had a broken ankle... and it was my fault.”

Even Elsa looked surprised by that. Hiccup couldn’t bring himself to face her fully, feeling a weight settle on him again as he admitted it.

“That night that Elsa was in Berk? I had a net made of trollwort. It blocks magic. Only Elsa got caught in it and fell and broke her ankle, and _that’s_ what I was doing out that night.”

Elsa looked a lot healthier now than she had then, he had to say. She was cleaner, better-clothed, with less hollowness to her cheeks though no less wariness in her eyes. Most of her weight was on her uninjured leg, but it seemed to be doing better all the same. Perhaps Astrid would see her as a threat; Hiccup didn’t know. True, her magic was dangerous. But her magic wasn’t the same as _her_ , and Hiccup had little doubt that if she had wanted to kill him, he would be dead already.

He sighed. “I couldn’t do it, Astrid. I couldn’t kill someone just because they didn’t come from Berk, just because they’re a _wildling_.”

Though her fingers curled into a fist and out again, searching for the hilt of a weapon that wasn’t there, Astrid stood confidently as she faced Elsa. “You have a name.”

“My name is Elsa,” the older girl said.

“You have magic. How?”

Elsa frowned slightly. “I have always. Since I was young.”

“She was born with it,” put in Hiccup. That much, again, he had gathered as they spoke.

Astrid glanced to him for a moment, but her eyes did not settle there. He could not say that he blamed her. “You come from the Wildlands.”

This part they had managed to talk through. “I was from Arendelle,” said Elsa. “When I was eight, I was sent to Wildlands.”

“Arendelle doesn’t have anything to do with the wildlings,” said Astrid, shaking her head, but her voice had slowed.

“The Silver Priests are lying,” said Hiccup. “Wildlings are from Arendelle, at least some of them are. We think we understand the world, but there’s so much _more_ , Astrid.”

For a moment, Astrid said nothing, her gaze locked with Elsa’s and an almost calculating glint in her eye. She shifted her weight, crossed her arms, and then looked over Hiccup’s other shoulder to where Toothless still stood, wings down but back arched, in a way that Hiccup knew meant curiosity and wariness but which was probably hard to read if you didn't have that much experience with dragons.

“And what about that?” Astrid said. “What is there missing about dragons?”

He thought of Toothless’s saddle, safely stowed in the caves, and smiled. “Let me show you.”

 

 

 

 

 

“You’re mad,” said Astrid flatly, as Hiccup climbed into the saddle and held out his hand to help her up as well. “You’re absolutely mad.”

“He has practised,” said Elsa. The trollwort bracelet was back on her wrist, though neither she nor Hiccup had commented to Astrid on the significance of that, and she was standing at a respectful distance as Toothless wriggled his shoulders and flicked his tail back and forth, getting settled again and impatient to fly. “He falls off less.”

“That doesn’t exactly fill me with confidence,” said Astrid flatly. “Do you...” she gestured in the general direction of Toothless. Maybe it just felt too ridiculous to ask ‘do you fly on the back of a dragon’ with a straight face, and Hiccup could acknowledge that not all that long ago, he would have thought the same thing.

Elsa shook her head. “The ground is enough for me.”

“Well, yes, maybe I’m just being greedy about my elements,” said Hiccup. “Come on. You asked what was missing. The fact that Toothless,” he used the name deliberately, “is calmly standing here with us around? That’s just the start.”

Finally, still frowning, Astrid walked up to Toothless’s side. She slapped aside Hiccup’s extended hand, grabbed hold of the saddle and pulled herself up, using the pedal attached to the connecting rod for leverage. As she slid into place, Hiccup couldn’t help getting the feeling that she was doing her best not to actually touch him, sitting as far back in the saddle as she could.

Toothless rumbled and shifted slightly, and he felt Astrid stiffen. “It’s all right. He’s just getting used to two people. You ready, bud?” He patted Toothless’s neck, slipped his foot into the pedal, and opened up the tail to the best angle for taking off. “Then let’s go.”

Huge black wings spread on either side of them, and there was something about that which never lost its shine. The breathless moment, the anticipation as Toothless bent his legs and the muscles of his back shifted and readied to–

Take off. They shot into the air harder than ever, so hard that Hiccup felt air forced into his lungs and his eyes begin to water. “Toothless!” he tried to shout, but it was difficult to do much more than get a mouthful of bugs. Behind him, Astrid screamed and grabbed him tightly around the waist, and he really couldn’t blame her as he took hold of the ring that anchored him to Toothless and clung tightly with his legs and the world around them dropped away.

They were still accelerating as they hit the clouds, a cold damp layer that soaked them through in seconds and made even Hiccup close his eyes. Astrid was still screaming; he wasn’t sure that she’d even paused to take a breath. Toothless banked sideways, Hiccup shifting the tail in response to the turn of his neck and the shift of the muscles in his back, so smoothly that it was automatic now, and then with a leathery _snap_ his wings spread to a gliding position, and Hiccup dared to open his eyes once again.

He’d never been this high before, except for the first ride when everything had gone so wrong and had nearly ended flying altogether for both of them. The air actually felt thin, they were so high up, the clouds below them and the sun beaming, if not exactly blazing, down. Through the gaps between the clouds he could see the blue-grey of the sea, the hulking black and white masses of the mountains giving way to the forests east and west, the village to the North. They could even see the city of Arendelle enclosed in its wall to the south, wrapped around its harbour like a pair of encircling arms.

Astrid had stopped screaming and started panting, which was probably at least something of an improvement, and her death-grip on Hiccup’s waist slackened slightly. He finally dared to look over his shoulder to see her looking down at the world below, eyes wide and jaw slack.

“Is that...”

“Berk? Yep. And those are the guardians;” he pointed out the great carved stones that surrounded the village, fires burning from their mouths. They had been made when Berk was first settled, before the war with the dragons grew so great that it ate up all of their time and effort. “The mountains; the forests. It’s all here.”

Toothless gave a single smooth stroke of his wings to keep them high, banking gently again. Every shift of his muscles was like a sign to Hiccup now, as easy as walking over uneven ground. It might have been raining below them, but it was always clear if you went high enough, so far up that the mountains were like hills and the forest was like grass. There was always a place that you could see everything.

Behind him, he felt Astrid relax, her weight shifting more towards the centre of the saddle where she rested behind Hiccup rather than clinging to him. One of her arms remained around his waist, more lightly than before, and the other came to rest against his leg. He told himself not to read too much into it. For all that he’d flushed around Astrid, regarded her with awe – the greatest fighter of their age, a sharp mind, beautiful and strong together – it wasn’t really as if riding a dragon was normal for anyone. Not even him, yet.

“Is it always like this?” she said, more softly.

Hiccup couldn’t help smiling. “Yeah. Every time.”

 

 

 

 

 

Flying was like being released from a tight hold, and being able to breathe again. The sky darkened around them, stars emerging in the darkness as the sunset painted the horizon pink and yellow. The lines between them blurred, Hiccup moving as Toothless flew, Astrid learning quickly how to move her weight with them on each turn and roll. The moon rose, just past full and brighter up here than it ever was from the ground, and even when Astrid grew bold enough to release her hold on Hiccup and raised her hands into the air to trail through wisps of cloud, he did not care at all. Even without words, he could feel how easily she took to flight, the feeling of rushing air and the ground a far-off painting below them.

As the clouds thinned, they flew lower, until they could even see the great bonfires that had been lit outside the great hall, and when the wind was right catch snatches of songs and shouting.

“Shouldn’t you be down there?” said Hiccup.

Astrid punched him in the upper arm. “Shouldn’t you?”

“You’re supposed to be the guest of honour.” He remembered last year’s celebration, with Lars Thorston the lucky trainee. There had been no shortage of free drinks for him, songs made up on the spot, people hoisting him onto their shoulders to parade him around the hall.

He felt Astrid shrug. “It turned into more of a celebration for the boats. And the start of a wake.”

For those who came back from the boats, and those who did not. “Sorry,” said Hiccup.

Astrid’s arms slid around his waist again, and squeezed just a little, and he was trying to not read too much into that either. “Don’t be. I wouldn’t have seen this otherwise.”

The chill of the night couldn’t dampen the warmth that spread through him at her words. “Come on, bud,” said Hiccup, scratching Toothless just behind his plates. “Let’s get you back to the cove. Elsa’ll be wondering where we’ve gone.”

They landed a lot more smoothly than they had taken off, though they did end up right on the edge of the water. Hiccup wondered whether Toothless was teasing them. He let Astrid climb down first, muttering beneath her breath, then got down himself. The backs of his legs still ached sometimes when he went flying, but today it was not so bad, and he just gave each foot a shake and stretched his shoulders from leaning forwards the whole time.

Elsa had lit a fire as she waited, and got to her feet with a fish in her hand as Toothless trotted over and butted her side. She gave him the fish, then ran her hand over his forehead, and he rubbed against her hip with a chirp. “Did you enjoy your flight?”

“Eh,” said Hiccup, swinging his arms and trying to act nonchalant. “It wasn’t bad.” It earnt him another punch on the arm from Astrid, this one a little harder than before. “Hey!”

“You’re a terrible liar,” said Astrid, and Elsa laughed. She looked round towards the wildling girl, less cautiously now. “I’m sorry about earlier. Hiccup’s... Hiccup is right.”

Elsa gave a thin smile. “It is fine. It is better than many have been.”

There was an uncomfortable moment, then Toothless bounded over and butted his head against Hiccup so hard that they both went staggering sideways. “Hey! Wow, is there anyone who isn’t going to hit me today?” he bopped the dragon on the nose, then set to scratching his neck. “Huh? You just joining in pushing me around? Is that it?”

Toothless made his low rumbling, arching his neck into Hiccup’s hands and patting at the ground with his front paws. His eyes dipped slightly closed, and the more that Hiccup scratched the more that they did, until finally with a great chuff he flopped to the ground and rolled onto his back, sending Hiccup hopping out of the way to avoid being knocked over.

“Did you just make a Night Fury fall over?” said Astrid incredulously. Hiccup looked up to see that both of the girls were watching him intently, Elsa with a smile, Astrid with her eyebrows raised. He wasn’t quite sure how to react to having the attention of multiple people on him.

“It works with Nadders as well?” he offered. “Though not so much with the Zipplebacks. Unless you can get both heads at once. They get jealous.”

That particular discovery had nearly involved getting his hair set on fire. Elsa was trying to hide laughter behind her hand as Astrid just stared. “How... how much do you know?”

“Hardly anything,” he said. “There’s so much. They–”

Toothless rolled to his feet, walked over to beside Astrid, and sat on his hindquarters with a huff. He was a lot taller than any of them when he did so, and Hiccup saw Astrid draw back slightly from the towering bulk of Night Fury.

“They like to copy,” he explained. “Well, some of them do, at least. Others, not so much.” He didn’t really want to think of it as an intelligence thing – perhaps it was just personality – but some of the dragons had definitely seemed to watch him more closely and copy his movements more willingly.

With a thrust of his throat, Toothless started to make a hawking sound, jaws opening. Oh, Thor, Hiccup knew exactly what was coming now. Astrid backed away a step, but no further, right as Toothless opened his mouth and spat out half of the fish which Elsa had just given him, now considerably slimier and with some of the scales missing.

“And then they do that,” said Hiccup with a sigh. “Well, at least that means he likes you. Er, he’s probably not going to leave you alone until...”

No, he couldn’t say it. He couldn’t tell Astrid to eat half a fish that had just been thrown up by a Night Fury that, earlier that night, had been quite willing to attack her for daring to hold an axe to Hiccup’s throat. Putting his hand over his eyes, Hiccup wished once again for the ground to open up and swallow him, or at least for dragons to be a bit more suited to company.

“Does he want me to pick it up?” said Astrid carefully. Hiccup peeked out between his fingers just in time for her to give Elsa a glance as well. Apparently trusting the dragon and the wildling came just about hand-in-hand, or maybe it was just easier to trust Elsa in comparison to something that could bite your head off in one go.

“No,” he said finally. “Well, yes, for a start. And then he wants you to eat it.”

“What?” It came out as a deadpan of which Hiccup himself would have been proud, and Astrid narrowed her eyes at him. To be fair, if someone said that to him then he would probably think that they were winding him up, as well.

There was probably going to be only one way to handle this. Giving up, Hiccup crossed to beside Astrid and picked up the fish from the ground himself. Sadly, he had to hold it tight to stop it from slipping out of his fingers again. Night Fury spit was slippery stuff, as well as absolutely foul-tasting. And he really wished that he couldn’t say that with such authority.

Toothless growled a warning, deep in his chest, and Hiccup looked at him disapprovingly. “Bud, quit it. I’m going to share.”

All right, so maybe some of Astrid’s disbelieving expression was to do with the fact that he was talking to a Night Fury in a manner not dissimilar to how Fishlegs talked to his younger siblings. But still. Hiccup raised the fish in both hands, to show it both to Toothless and Astrid, and discreetly tried to rub as much Night Fury saliva as possible off a small patch near the edge.

“I think it’s a trust thing,” he said to Astrid. “Or maybe he thinks he’s being generous. I don’t know. But, hey.”

It got a little bit easier at time, but it didn’t really make it any less disgusting. Hiccup raised the fish to his mouth and talk a small, careful bite of the flesh. The raw fish itself wasn’t really the bad part, although Hiccup was waiting for the day that it managed to make him ill, but the spit was. It was oily, and tasted a little bit like the smell of the really strong poteen that Gobber had made until Stoick had banned him from doing so.

He had learnt, however, that swallowing the fish as quickly as possible helped to stop the taste from lingering. Hiccup did so, to a huff of approval from Toothless, and handed the fish over to Astrid.

She didn’t look like she particularly wanted to take it. “You have got to be kidding me.”

“You asked what more there was,” said Hiccup. He decided not to mention that Elsa had been far more willing to first eat the fish than he had, and to be fair still was. Apparently food was food. “And whatever this is... it’s not what we thought.”

Astrid looked at the fish, then at Hiccup, then at Toothless. The Night Fury cocked his head to the side and licked his lips encouragingly, which was sort of cute once you knew that he wasn’t doing it because he was thinking about how tasty _you_ looked.

“I can’t believe I’m doing this,” she muttered. Then, visibly steeling herself, she bought the fish to her lips and took a bite. Her eyes closed as she chewed – probably a mistake, but Hiccup wasn’t going to point that out right now – and then swallowed with only the slightest of shudders, before she looked back up to Toothless and raised her eyebrows pointedly. “So, do I pass?”

Toothless curled up the corners of his mouth and showed his gums, which was almost certainly his attempt to copy the smiles which Hiccup and Elsa gave him. Whether or not Astrid understood it, she held out the rest of the fish, and Toothless dropped down to all fours again to pad forwards and gulp it down.

“Looks like,” said Hiccup.

With the fish gone, Astrid flicked Night Fury spit off her hands. “Urgh, I’m going to need to wash this off. Though I suppose... I suppose that a bit of raw fish isn’t a bad exchange for not killing each other.”

Not killing each other, Hiccup almost commented, was only the start. But he was pretty sure that Astrid was getting the idea.

 

 

 

 

 

They trudged back to the village together, in silence after Hiccup admitted that they probably weren’t going to be getting Astrid’s axe back from the bottom of the pool too easily. He wasn’t quite sure whether he dared call it sulking or not, but had it been anyone other than Astrid he might have been tempted to.

They were within sight of Berk, raucous laughter and out-of-tune singing filtering through the trees, when Astrid stopped in her tracks. It was so abrupt that Hiccup took three more steps before he even realised that she was not alongside him.

“I don’t think I can do it,” she said as he turned around.

He sighed. “Look, Astrid, I can make you a replacement axe, just let-”

“No,” she said sharply. “I mean, the Monstrous Nightmare. I don’t think I can kill it. Not after tonight.”

She probably didn’t mean for the words to make Hiccup feel as _elated_ as they did. He also felt guilty for doing so, but it didn’t manage to quash the feeling. Just that day – well, probably yesterday, by now – he had watched her knock out a Zippleback as she fought for the honour of killing the Nightmare.

“Don’t worry. You won’t have to.”

“Oh, what, so I just turn down the biggest honour for anyone our age? There’s no way that won’t be suspicious!”

“What? No!” All right, Hiccup realised, he probably could have done with an explanation. “No, I mean that I’ll make sure you don’t have to.”

She folded her arms and shook her head at him. “And _how_ exactly are you planning to do that? You can’t win everyone round with rides on a Night Fury.”

“I’m going to give my Dad something bigger, something he’s been after a long time,” said Hiccup. “I’m going to find the nest.”

“ _What_? But you just said-”

“If I find the nest, he’ll call off the killing of the Nightmare so he can scramble a crew and get out there. But once he gets out there, I can _show_ him that there’s so much more to dragons than killing them.”

It had worked with Astrid. It _had_ to work with his father. Astrid was still looking at him dubiously, but Hiccup knew his father, and knew that the best chance he could have would be to prove that dragons were not what they had always thought they were. Stoick believed in what he could see, not just what he was told.

Astrid opened her mouth, but didn’t get as far as speaking as voices, rather clearer than before, rolled around the corner of the nearest house.

“There were pricks a-plenty, and cocks so copious, ‘mongst the bonny bastards of Berk–”

“That would be Ruffnut,” said Hiccup, wincing at the notes which the other girl was able to hit.

“Earlier than usual for her to be escorting Tuffnut home,” Astrid commented.

Hiccup shook his head. “You should get going. I’ll see you come the morning, hopefully.”

“Hopefully?” she said, suspicion creeping in.

“I’m going to grab some dark clothes,” he said. “Hopefully being with Toothless will stop any other dragons taking an interest, but...”

“You do seem to get their attention a lot.”

“Even before the dragon nip.”

He could see the question in her eyes, but was cut off by a holler from Ruffnut of: “But the slits were so scanty, the fucks were so few! They just couldn’t get ‘em to work!”

There was a crash, which might have been Tuffnut throwing something at her. Not that such an occurrence was necessarily a comment on her singing ability. It could have been a compliment, coming from the twins.

Hiccup shook his head. “That sounded nearer. You should go; don’t want the twins getting the wrong idea.”

For a moment Astrid stood in the moonlight, smiling just faintly in a way that he absolutely could not guess the reason for. Then she reached out and punched him very lightly in the centre of his chest. “Who says it’s the wrong idea?”

He was about to say that this was Ruffnut they were talking about, of _course_ she would get the wrong idea, but before he could manage it Astrid grabbed the front of his shirt to hold him still, and leant in to kiss him on the cheek. It was over in an instant, then – still smiling – she turned and ran into the village, and Hiccup raised his hand to his cheek in bemusement.

“Please, Sjöfn, let this not be a dream,” he muttered to himself. Then he gathered together what he was actually there for, and turned to head towards his own house.

 

 

 

 

 

His leggings and boots were dark already, but he swapped out his green shirt for a dark grey one that he occasionally wore at the smithy, and grabbed a scarf to wrap around his face and neck. He rumpled his bedclothes and bundled up the blankets a bit in case Stoick stuck his head around the door to make it look as if the bed had been slept in, but it was pretty unlikely. Gobber could hold his ale as well as the next Viking, but that didn’t stop him from being able to drink enough to get absolutely plastered. Hiccup had learnt some interesting songs that way.

The moon was high in the sky by the time that he got back to the cove again. Elsa looked surprised to see him, and even more surprised when he went straight for the saddle that she must have taken off Toothless in his absence.

“You are flying again?”

“Yeah,” he said. “I’ve got something I need to find.”

She frowned as he swung himself into the saddle and started to wrap the scarf around his head. It would get humid beneath it, but should stop him from standing out so much against the night sky. “Be careful,” she said, and he couldn’t remember when he taught her that phrase either, but they’d exchanged a lot of words these past couple of moons. She crossed to where he sat and put a hand on his, just for a moment, then stepped back to look Toothless in the eye instead. “Take care of him.”

“When are we not careful?” said Hiccup. He opened up Toothless’s tail, and Elsa stepped back as the dragon spread his wings.

A pointed look. “You ride a dragon.”

“That... is not the point,” said Hiccup. He tried to look confident, then realised there wasn’t much point from behind the scarf, and turned his attention to the sky instead. “Come on, bud. Let’s find your home.”

 

 

 

 

 

He was aware from the beginning that his plan – if it could even be called such – had a few issues. There had to be a nest, Vikings had been sure of that from the beginning, but Hiccup was finding that assumptions like that were getting somewhat questionable nowadays. As for the rest of it, he could only hope that Toothless, as a Night Fury, shared the same nest as the rest of them; that he would still want to return there, after two moons living among humans; that he would be willing to take Hiccup there.

But it was the best plan that he had right now.

Usually when they flew, he let Toothless take the lead, reacting to his movements rather than trying to control him. But this time he shifted his weight to feel Toothless react in the air, gently banking left or right as Hiccup leant that way, speeding up as Hiccup settled down in the seat to become more streamlined. Having a human on his back probably made him slower, but it was still fast enough for the wind to sting Hiccup’s eyes and his hands to ache with the cold.

“Come on, buddy,” he said, muffled by the scarf. “Let’s visit your home.”

The boats always sailed to the north-west, and that was the direction that Hiccup headed. Above the clouds, it was easy to see the lode-star to the very north, and as the clouds gave way to the dense fog that always stopped the Vikings from finding Dragon Island he kept an eye on it still.

It was the fog that stopped them. There was something in the islands, or in the land beneath the sea, that baffled their compasses; the currents were unpredictable; and the fog blocked out the stars that Hiccup now used to find his way. Gobber had confessed to Hiccup – because Stoick never would – that often the expeditions would find themselves landing on the same islands multiple times. That, as much as the dragons, had prevented them from reaching Dragon Island.

Up here, though, Hiccup had the stars and a dragon. He lay almost flat against Toothless’s back, both hands on the dragon’s shoulders and his head dipped against the cold wind. “Take us home, Toothless,” he said, almost like a mantra. “Take us home.”

They dipped and soared through the tops of the clouds, sometimes dipping into them so that before too long Hiccup was soaked through and fighting not to shiver. His hands were going numb against Toothless’s back, and he was getting stiff from the fixed position and the beating movement of the muscles beneath him. His cheeks grew damp with his breath, and the air around his face grew stuffy, but it was better than the chill outside. By the movement of the stars, he knew that time was passing, but it was difficult to tell how much.

Then, out of the darkness, a mountain loomed up on the horizon. Hiccup’s breath caught in his throat, gut roiling as he realised that they were heading straight for it, and the sensation only got worse when he realised that the specks in the air around it were dragons.

Hundreds of them.

“Oh, Thor,” he breathed. “Oh, Thor and Odin and Máni, some help here would be deeply appreciated.”

Toothless slowed, but did not stop, and headed straight into the depths of the dragon cloud. Hiccup could see Nadders, Gronckles, Zipplebacks, Nightmares, even something that might have been a Whispering Death in the far distance. In patches of thinner fog, he could see _something_ moving through the water far below, but couldn’t tell what it was.

Perhaps this had been a bad idea.

He pressed his cheek against Toothless’s back, breathing in the scent of leather and sweat and dragon, until his heart stopped pounding enough for him to look up at the mountain-island again. The fog seemed thinner around it, though the swarm of dragons seemed thicker, and Hiccup swallowed back a scream as Toothless tucked his wings in and shot towards the mountain. Foot moving almost of its own accord, Hiccup shifted Toothless’s tail to a diving position, and in a gulp of blackness they plunged down a narrow, rocky tunnel.

He heard, rather than saw, Toothless’s wings open to slow them again as the tunnel widened up, and the walls grew red with firelight. From the cold air outside, it was suddenly stifling hot, sweat beading on Hiccup’s skin and his mouth going dry. His eyes prickled, and as Toothless settled down onto a rocky ledge he reached up to unravel the scarf from around his head and try to gulp in some air. Sadly, it didn’t help much, being just as hot and even drier than before.

“Is this it?” he muttered to himself. He looked around, eyes adjusting to the strange light, and realised that what he had originally taken to be rocky walls were, largely, dragons. Dragons _everywhere_. On ledges, clinging to the walls, slung beneath overhangs. Huddled together, largely, and almost trying to hide behind pillars. “What in Helheim...”

 _Something_ growled. Deep and long and so loud that it felt like the whole mountain was growling instead. Hiccup felt it in his chest, and grabbed at the saddle to steady himself. He couldn’t even ask aloud what had happened, as in the sucking silence afterwards even the dragons tried to shy away from the ledges on which they stood.

Far below them, rocks crashed and boomed in the dim red light. Toothless looked round to Hiccup and chirped something deep in his chest, but Hiccup had to take a few deep breaths before he nodded and gave a nudge with his knees to send Toothless forwards towards the edge. Reluctantly, Toothless did so, creeping to the front of the ledge and pausing only to growl menacingly at a Nadder that crept a little close.

As they reached the edge, Hiccup kept a tight hold on the ring and leant out. Warm air rushed up into his hot face, sulphurous and thick, and he would have been fighting not to gag had he not been distracted by the fact that a shadow, huge and dark, was shifting down in the steam and curls of mist.

For a second, he blinked down, wondering if his eyes were playing tricks. Then there was another great growl that made the rocks around them shudder, and made Toothless stagger with the force of it. Another blast of hot air rose upwards, this one foul with the smell of rotting flesh, and Hiccup put his hand to his mouth as a snout, wider than anything he had ever seen before, emerged from the mist, and nostrils wide enough for him to fall into flared. Teeth glinted in the darkness, an impossible number each as large as a man.

“Oh, gods,” Hiccup breathed, drawing back again. Toothless hurried back from the edge as soon as he felt Hiccup’s weight shift. He ran a shaking hand over his face and tried not to envisage the size of the creature to which that snout would be attached.

Another rumble ran through the mountain, this one so low that Hiccup could not even hear it, only feel it in the depths of his chest. Wings snapped overhead, and a Monstrous Nightmare pulled in through the same tunnel that Toothless had used, a sheep clutched in its huge claws. As it passed by Hiccup, it turned to face him, and a chill ran through him at the fact that its eyes were dark from edge to edge. The sheep thrashed as the red light washed over it, and slipped out of the Nightmare’s claws into the shadows below with a terrified bleat.

The Nightmare tried to dive after it, fire flaring into life along its back, but the sheep tumbled away too quickly and the Nightmare had to pull up where rocks protruded from the wall. It hung there for a moment, wings pounding the air, then with a great lunge the snout of the creature far below protruded again, mouth opening in a black cavern with swirling greenish gas deep inside.

 _Snap_. The teeth slammed closed again, and Hiccup reared back. It wasn’t quick enough, though, to miss the moment that the Nightmare was gulped down, wings bitten through and left to flutter away through the darkness.

He bent down low to Toothless’s neck. “Bud, we got to get out of here.” He had been wrong. He had been _so wrong_. Hiccup’s hands were shaking and he felt like he was going to be sick, and he tried opening Toothless’s tail to the right position but the dragon huffed and reared up below him.

“Toothless! Stop that!” he hissed, but Toothless flared his plates and turned, bounding across the ledge and leaping down to the next one lining the walls. There was a snort from the creature in the shadows, and Hiccup almost bit his tongue for fear that it could hear him among the clatter of rocks and the sounds of dragons forming the background rumblings of the cavern.

His knuckles turned white as he clung to the saddle, and his legs ached from holding on as Toothless leapt from ledge to ledge, winding ever deeper into the mountain. The rotting smell grew stronger, and Hiccup buried his nose in his shoulder to try to block it out, but there was nothing he could do about the heat that grew fiercer with each ledge, making his eyes ache and his mouth throb. As they went down, the dragons grew fewer and fewer, until they were moving along empty ledges and clinging to bits of rock that seemed to barely be there, let alone wide enough for Toothless to grip.

Death by Gronckle might have been an embarrassing prospect, but surely it could not be worse than this. Sweat ran down his back and dripped into his eyes, made him slip in the saddle as Toothless jumped down again and again. Had he made a mistake in all of this? There were stories from when he was young and the dragon attacks had been bad, of babies snatched from their cradles in the night or children gone missing. On one very dark night, when Stoick had been out to see the boats come in and Gobber had been overseeing the people sheltering in the Great Hall, Gobber had admitted to Hiccup that it might have been true. That there had been a dragon in Hiccup’s room, the night that his mother had been taken instead.

Perhaps Night Furies were just patient, and humans were considered a great treat.

Toothless leapt to another outcrop, and clung right to the edge, looking down into the glowing-red depths. He rumbled, so low it was inaudible but Hiccup could feel it running through his thighs. Slowly, Hiccup leant forwards in the saddle so that he was looking down into the pit as well.

For a moment, he once again could not even fathom what he was seeing. Something that must have been the tail of the great creature loomed out of the mist, knobbly and thick with armour, curling around what he thought for a moment where great oval rocks. Then it hit him like a blow to his stomach.

They were eggs.

Eggs as large as a house, grey with red light glowing out through them, patches of thinner shells which showed something moving inside. The tail wrapped around the eggs a little more tightly, then lashed away and slammed against the wall. Toothless almost stumbled forwards, and Hiccup had to grab the saddle to avoid falling, as rocks crashed down from the wall again. A boulder bounced down not three feet from Hiccup, and he clung to Toothless with his legs as he offered a prayer to any god that was listening to not fall, to not have the huge dragon see him.

Something cracked, and brighter red-orange light cut across the wall beside them. Hiccup looked down again and realised that a great line had appeared across one of the eggs below.

It took a moment, and then he knew. “The eggs explode,” he whispered.

Another crack, and Toothless jumped back from the edge and turned away, bounding from ledge to ledge so fast that it made Hiccup’s stomach jolt and the world whirl around him.

Below them, there was a hollow _boom_ , and bright light flashed around them. The dragons parted for Toothless to run through them, and as soon as a faint breeze of cool air came through he turned and ducked into the narrow tunnel to the outside of the mountain. His wings folded in so tightly that they brushed against Hiccup, who lay down and pressed his cheek to Toothless’s back again as the rock walls came closer and closer around them, Toothless’s nails clacking against the floor.

They burst out into the air, and Hiccup hit Toothless’s tail just as his wings opened around them and pounded against the air. From behind them, there was a great _whoosh_ like the air was being drawn away, and Hiccup looked over his shoulder to see the mountain fast retreating and fire billowing out from the tunnel.

“This is bad,” he muttered. “This is really, really bad.”

And it was about to get worse. Because there was already a streaming cloud of dragons heading the same way that they were – straight towards Berk.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The eggs here are a slight canon divergence. In supplementary material, it is started that according to Viking legend, every thousand years the Red Death lays hundreds of eggs, and the hatchlings fight to the death until only one remains. While I've presumed that the thousand years and hundreds of eggs might be hyperbole of the sort common in oral traditions, I have kept the eggs.


	9. Chapter 9

It seemed like the whole of the nest had emptied out. Hundreds of dragons, maybe even thousands, the biggest swarm that Hiccup had ever seen, were all flying south-east towards Berk. Toothless cut through them, wings sweeping through the air, building faster and faster until it was all that Hiccup could do to hold on. Even his scarf was whipped away by the sheer speed of Toothless, weaving and dodging around dragons that gave startled shrieks as a Night Fury winged past.

Maybe he was sensing Hiccup’s own fear, or maybe he just wanted to get home on his own terms. Hiccup wouldn’t blame him.

He didn’t know what to do now. He couldn’t take Stoick to that island, not with that thing and the eggs hatching, but he had to do something to stop the killing of the dragons. Could he take Stoick, just Stoick, to the cove? Introduce him to Toothless, as he had done with Astrid? He couldn’t even think it through while the sheer terror of the creature still in his mind, the teeth slicing through the Nightmare as if it was not even there.

However fast they had flown north, they must have been heading south again at twice the speed. Hiccup glanced up to see Berk already fast approaching, fires lit and being raised into the air; of course, the dragons again. Vikings might be good at drinking, but they were also pretty good at sobering up in a hurry when hundreds of dragons descended upon the village.

Food for the creature, he realised. The queen in the nest, or whatever it was. It explained why they carried off the sheep in their claws, rather than gulping them down on the spot, why they bothered attacking humans at all. They needed to.

“Toothless, we gotta bank west,” he tried to shout over the wind, but they were going too fast and he swallowed the words. They couldn’t go over the village, not with a fight on; there was too much of a risk that they would be seen. “Toothless!”

Finally, Toothless slowed up a little, turning his head to look at Hiccup. His eyes were wide, though whether it was with the darkness or with fear Hiccup couldn’t say.

“We need to go west,” he repeated, leaning the direction he wanted Toothless to go. “Else they’ll–”

 _See us_ , was all that he was going to say, but suddenly there was a weighted rope around him and he was being bound to Toothless, and they were dropping out of the sky as fast as they had ever flown. Toothless screamed, and Hiccup tried to fumble for his knife, knowing that the only thing that could fire this high into the air would be his bola-thrower. Gobber had taken it, was supposed to have destroyed it... but apparently not. He got his hand around the hilt of his knife but couldn’t pull it free, pressed against Toothless’s back, and Toothless tried to flare his wings to slow them down but the ground was rushing up towards them faster than a breath, and then with a jarring thud everything went black.

 

 

 

 

 

He woke up to shouting. Human, mostly, but Toothless was shrieking as well, and that was reverberating through Hiccup’s body as well as ringing in his ears.

“That’s the Night Fury!”

“Get its head!”

“Spitelout, get the tail!”

Oh, Thor, that was his father. Hiccup tried to lift his head, and almost threw up on the spot. He managed to get hold of his knife again, and had it half-way out of the sheath when he felt the ropes around him go slack and he dropped to the ground. He tried to get his feet underneath him and get in the way of the press of Vikings around them, but then realised that he didn’t need to, as everyone started to back away again.

“What’s going on in there?” Stoick barked. Movement through the crowd meant that he was coming this way. Hiccup moved so that he was standing almost defensively in front of Toothless’s head. “We need that thing down, to get to...” Reaching the front of the circle, Stoick looked round – and stopped in his tracks. “Hiccup? But you– did it try–” He grabbed Hiccup by the arm and went to drag him away from Toothless. Hiccup fought back harder than he’d ever managed to before, wrenching himself free of his father’s hold.

“No! It’s not what you think!” One of the women stepped forwards with an axe raised, and even as Toothless gave a warning growl Hiccup leapt between them. “No!”

“Stoick.”

Spitelout didn’t shout, but there was something in his voice that made Hiccup’s heart sink. He looked round to see the man holding up Toothless’s tail, spread so that everyone could see the bright yellow of the wool and the glint of the metal. Hiccup’s heart pounded in his chest. They knew he was Gobber’s apprentice, knew that he could work metal, and now they could see...

He looked round to see horror in his father’s eyes. “Hiccup,” said Stoick. “What have you done?”

“Dad, you have to listen to me,” Hiccup began, but he was grabbed by the arm again and hauled away. This time he could not break his father’s grip no matter how much he fought, could barely even get his toes to the ground.

“Get that thing chained!” Stoick shouted. “And get back to the defences! There’s a lot of them in the air tonight! Spitelout, the men are yours! And _you_ ;” he shook Hiccup so hard that his head throbbed and his teeth seemed to rattle in his jaw. “You’re coming with me.”

“Don’t hurt him!” Hiccup shouted to the men and women still surrounding Toothless, but if they heard him then they gave no sign of it. One or two of them gave him suspicious or disgusted glances as he was dragged away by his father. “Don’t... don’t hurt...” the words tasted ashy in his mouth, or perhaps that was just left over from the mountain, and the creature, and the eggs.

He thought at first that they would be going home, that perhaps this would be another night in the woodshed to stop him from causing any more trouble, but he realised with a chill that he was being pulled towards the jail instead. A ramshackle one-storey structure, it was nonetheless roofed in Gronckle hides and clad with granite to keep out all but the most determined of dragon attacks. It was rarely used, but still one of the oldest buildings in the village right now.

“Dad? Dad!” he protested, as Stoick hauled him inside and slammed the door closed behind them. Light flickered in through the small window in the door, but it was barely enough for him to see the outline of his father. “You cannot be serious!”

“I have tried for years,” said his father, grabbing the keys from the wall and opening up the cell door, “to keep you safe, and never once have you listened. And _now_ we find you in the clutches of a dragon–”

“Clutches? I wasn’t in his _clutches_ , I–”

“Hiccup!” It was such a bark that it rattled his bones. “I don’t have time for this. We’ll talk about this once I can be sure that my people are safe.”

He was deposited on the cell, knocking his hip and elbow on the floor as he fell but not even feeling it as he tried to scramble back up again. Before he could, he heard the door close and lock behind him. “Dad!”

“I’m sorry,” said Stoick, voice weary as he opened the door and stood there, framed against the fires beyond for a moment. His hair and beard were blood, his eyes just shadows. “I’ll send someone to keep an eye on you. And I’ll be back come dawn.”

Then the door closed, and Hiccup was left in the darkness and the cell.

He rattled the door in its place, slammed the butt of his fist against the wall, then gave the bars a hearty kick and immediately regretted it as pain lanced through his foot. Cursing all blacksmiths who had ever made an iron bar, and not even caring that he was including himself in doing so, he retreated to the back of the cell where a simple slab of stone did for a bench, and flopped down. His head slumped into his hands.

Always a hiccup, always making mistakes, always screwing things up for the rest of the village. Dragons roared overhead, and fire flashed through the window. His head seemed to pulse. All that he could do now was hope that, come morning, his father would listen when he tried to explain.

It was only minutes later that the door opened again, and Hiccup looked up with his heart jumping into his throat. But the man at the door, torch in hand, was definitely not his father, and it was not a helm that he wore on his head.

“Bucket,” said Hiccup. He was feeling tired now, tired and sore and colder than he ever had whilst he was in the air. “My Dad sent you to keep an eye on me?”

“To make sure you stay awake,” said Bucket. He was certainly a nice man, that had to be said, good with animals and children and certainly logical about how he did things. Hard to argue with, as well. But the dragon attack a decade ago that had split his skull open had left him lacking certain things, and the taste for fighting was one of them. He held through the bars a block of ice, wrapped in a dripping cloth. “Here. I bought this.”

Berk was good at the fighting of dragons, but it was also relatively good at treating the injuries that came along with it. Hiccup had been knocked around the head enough times in his life to know better than to go to sleep, but he supposed that at least it meant his father wanted someone to keep a caring eye on him as well as a wary one.

“Thanks,” he said, accepting the block of ice. It threatened to stick to his fingers and the cold water running down his back made him shiver, but at least it helped dull the pain in his temples a little. As long as he swapped hands every so often, it kept them from getting too stiff.

 

 

 

 

 

The roaring and sounds of fighting continued for a while longer, then the air grew still save for a few distant shouts. Hiccup looked up warily from where he had been sitting, taking the ice from his forehead where it had been resting as he leant back against the wall. He refused to ask aloud whether or not it was over, knowing as he did that any such question usually precipitated an immediate return to fighting and chaos; instead he kept his eyes on the window, which was just starting to lighten with daybreak.

Sure enough, the door opened and his father reappeared, fresh cuts on his arms and soot on his face. He gestured for Bucket to leave them. “Get up,” he said. “It’s over.”

Hiccup’s legs were stiff as he got to his feet and walked over to the doorway, but when he glanced over to the wall the keys were not on their usual peg. The sinking feeling in his stomach came back. “Dad...” he said warily.

“I spoke to Spitelout. He saw what happened when that dragon got shot down,” said Stoick.

“Yeah,” interrupted Hiccup, “how did that happen, exactly? Considering Gobber said he got rid of that machine.”

“It doesn’t matter!” Stoick snapped, but when he saw Hiccup open his mouth again he sighed. “The twins were rooting around behind the smithy, and it’s a good thing they did, otherwise we wouldn’t have been able to bring that Night Fury down.”

“Well, that’s true, but you know, I wasn’t–”

“You were on its _back_ , Hiccup.”

The words would have been enough to silence him. The ferocity and the desperation behind them, though, made Hiccup stagger back half a pace.

“Spitelout said that when they cut you free, you were on its back. You were on its back, and you asked them not to hurt it, and whatever that thing is attached to its tail is your handiwork as plain as day. So tell me.” Stoick stepped right up to the barred door, seeming to fill it, still smelling of the battle and with shadows beneath his eyes. “What were you doing with that Night Fury?”

Hiccup had to swallow, and he wished that he sounded less like a child as he spoke. “They aren’t what we think. I found him, he was injured, he let me help him and he would never hurt me, Dad, you have to believe me. He wouldn’t hurt anyone.”

“I’ve a woman with a broken wrist who’d beg to differ!” Stoick snapped, and Hiccup flinched from the accusation in the words. “It took eight of us to shackle that thing and get it into one of the pens at the arena. It wasn’t even afraid!”

“Gobber told me once that a dragon who doesn’t fear humans is the most dangerous of all.” He tried to plead with his eyes, his voice, anything, to make his father understand. “What does that make a human who doesn’t fear dragons?”

“A fool! Have you learnt nothing from the last fourteen years, Hiccup? Have you not seen how many of us they’ve killed? Do you not...”

The way that the words caught in his mouth, they must have been of Valka. Hiccup felt guilt like a lump in his throat, but he did his best to stand his ground. “What if they didn’t have to die? If every person we’ve lost could have lived if we hadn’t continued this fight? If–”

“Hiccup!”

He had to keep going, because if he stopped now then he was not sure that he would be able to start again. The hundreds that had died, wasted if he was right and inevitable if he was wrong. It was a bad choice either way. “If we don’t fight them, then they don’t fight us, he’s proof of that. And they’re, they’re not stealing food for themselves. You can see it in my journals, the way that the patterns of the attacks go, it would make no _sense_ if they were stealing for themselves. And not just my journals, either. In my moth- in, in others. They’ve been doing this for years, taking the food. They’re afraid of this, this thing on their island, it–”

“Island?” The door clanked in its frame as Stoick grabbed the bars with one hand. “You’ve seen the island.”

“Yes, the dragons go there, they take the food, but it’s all for this thing, this _monster_ there.” Perhaps it was a dragon, another species which they had never seen before, or of which there was only some obscure reference buried deep in Bork’s work. But it was hard to think of it as one when the other dragons had been so afraid, had cowered away from it in a way that they would not do from each other. “You have to understand, they don’t want to fight us, they...”

He trailed off. There was something in his father’s expression, an almost maniacal glint.

“What did I say?” he said fearfully.

“The dragon knows,” said Stoick, almost to himself. He stepped back from the bars, letting his hand fall back to the hilt of the sword at his side. “Of course the dragon knows.”

“No! No, no, no!” Knowledge crashed down over him like a storm-wave, and Hiccup lunged towards the bars, reaching through. His fingers barely grazed his father’s chest. “Dad, this thing, you can’t face it. The dragons won’t face it, can’t you see? And if they won’t face it, what chance could we have?”

Stoick just ignored his words. “One last chance, Hiccup,” he said. “Will you take us there?”

 _Us_. Suddenly even his original plan seemed stupid and childish, the idea that his father and a boat of warriors would hold back long enough for Hiccup to show them that the dragons meant no harm. Besides, even Toothless had reacted badly to knives; he did not want to think what a whole island of dragons would have been like.

“Dad.” His voice cracked. He wasn’t crying, refused to cry, but his eyes felt as hot as they had back in the mountain. “Please, I can’t...”

“Then you’ve chosen them.” It didn’t have to be a choice, wasn’t supposed to be a _choice_ , he was a human and Toothless was a dragon and it didn’t matter because they didn’t have to live at the expense of the other. But Stoick’s words were as heavy as any stone door. “You’ve left the humans, and the village. You’ve left my family.”

He let the door swing closed behind him, and did not look round as Hiccup fell to his knees.

 

 

 

 

 

Hiccup wasn’t sure how long he was there, kneeling at first and then sitting with his back to the bars and his knees tucked up to his chest. He didn’t want to imagine the boats sailing out, didn’t want to think about when they would get there, or how long it would take for that creature and its young to kill them all. But it was hard not to.

He’d failed twice over. In making his father see that dragons were not what they thought, and in stopping him from going to the island. No man, no army of men, could fight that thing.

It was brighter outside when the door opened, creaking slightly on its hinges. “If you’ve got another block of ice, Bucket, I’d sure appreciate it,” he said flatly.

“Well,” said Elsa. “I can give you ice if you’d prefer.”

Hiccup jumped to his feet so quickly that he almost hit his head on the bars, whirling around to look at the doorway. Astrid was standing there, grinning, a tray of food balanced on one hand and a warhammer in the other. Beside her, lowering her hood, was Elsa.

“But–” said Hiccup, the eloquence of his voice matching that of his thoughts. “You – how?”

“You think I couldn’t find my way back to that little hideaway of yours?” said Astrid. “Come on. Now, let’s get you out of there.”

Hiccup was still looking from one to the other of them, too dumbstruck to really do anything but gawp. Sliding the tray onto the table – and revealing that it had probably been meant to be his lunch – she turned to where the keys normally hung, then stopped. “Oh...”

“I think my father has them,” said Hiccup with a sigh. “But don’t worry about me, you have to _stop_ them from getting to that island.”

“How?” said Astrid. “They took everything that could be pressed into use as a warship. There’s barely any fishing boats left. They – wait, what?” The question was aimed at Elsa, who had slipped off her trollwort bands and was pressing them into Astrid’s free hand.

“Do not touch the metal,” said Elsa, stepping up to the doorway. Her expression grew focused, almost stern, and she squared her shoulders.

Hiccup stepped quickly back from the door, not sure what was coming but figuring that it would be better to not start asking too many questions. The air around them grew cold again as Elsa put one hand above the lock and the other below, then ice started to spread out across the metal from her touch.

“Odin have mercy,” said Astrid quietly.

Seeing magic was another one of those things which it wasn’t really possible to get _used_ to, just to get less surprised by. The ice on the lock grew thicker, and flakes on Elsa’s hands and wrists became shimmering thin sheets that spread halfway to her elbow. Around them, the temperature plunged, until Hiccup could see his breath on the air in a cloud that grew thicker with each exhale. Ice crept out in fine tendrils around Elsa’s bare feet, snuck around the bars in vines and fernlike patterns, and the metal creaked and groaned.

“Are you sure this is–” He started to say, as delicately as he could, when with almost a shriek the metal of the lock buckled beneath the weight of the ice.

Elsa stepped away, the ice parting for her hands and leaving a jagged pattern around the lock where her fingers had been. She turned to Astrid, and nodded to the lock. “You go.”

Again, Hiccup backed away a step or two, and raised an arm ready to cover his face. “Hit it,” he said to Astrid. “The ice will make it brittle.”

Astrid glanced between them, then put the bracelets between her teeth and raised the warhammer in both hands. She swung it in a full arc, an overhead blow that crashed down onto the lock and sent shards of ice and twisted metal showering the room. The door to the cell bucked and swung slowly outwards, and she looked at it cautiously. “Gobber iff–” a pause, to remove the bracelet from her mouth and wipe it on her shirt “–is not going to be happy about that.”

“I’ll fix it later,” said Hiccup. He strode straight out, light-headed but relieved to be out in the fresh air again, where he could at least see. But within a few steps, he stilled again, looking around at the deserted village below them. “Where is everyone?”

“They didn’t just take all the boats,” said Astrid grimly. “They took all of the people as well.”

“Toothless took me to the island. He’ll take them.”

“You told your father there was something there.”

He nodded. “Yes. How... were you eavesdropping?” he looked round incredulously. To imagine Astrid, of all people, doing that was really quite bizarre.

Astrid just shrugged. “Think of it as being informed. I was helping put out fires when I saw Toothless get shot down. When I saw you, I had to know what was going on.” 

“There’s a, a creature there,” he said, gesturing with his hands as if he could somehow encompass it in something so simple. “It’s huge, it’s... we’re talking leviathan huge. But it’s not a leviathan, it’s a land-dweller. Something else. The other dragons take the food to it, otherwise it eats them.” Astrid looked shocked; Elsa looked outright horrified. “And now? There are eggs, and they are hatching. We have to stop my father.”

“There are no boats left that could catch them,” said Astrid. “Not even if the wind were right.”

“No...” Hiccup trailed off, then caught Elsa’s eye. She gave a minute nod. “But there is a way to get there. I’m going to the arena.”

 

 

 

 

 

He stopped at his house just long enough to grab his bag of dragon nip and Gobber’s copy of the Book of Dragons, stuffing them into a satchel. His mind was waking up again, already working, already _racing_ ; the Nadder they had was uncommonly fast for her species, the fastest of the ones that they had, and nimble enough to get to the ship besides. He just hoped it considered him enough of a friend to get him close to so many armed Vikings.

Tiredness made it too hard to run, but he trotted as fast as he could up to the arena, throwing the modified switches to open all of the pens. If he was going to cause trouble, he might as well cause it all at once. The dragons came out cautiously, the Gronckle first to sniff at the bag and accept a handful of dragon nip, then the others each in their turn. He was just grabbing some rope from the armoury when the door was pulled further open behind him.

“I hope you weren’t planning on going anywhere by yourself,” said Astrid archly.

Hiccup sighed. “The dragons know me, they trust me. And besides, I’m not going to risk your neck for my stupidity.”

“Oh, I think getting on a dragon counts as our own stupidity,” said another voice.

“Fishlegs?” Frowning, coil of rope slung over his arm, Hiccup stepped back out into the arena. The dragons were still standing close to their doors, nosing at the last few scraps of dragon nip scattered on the floor, but between him and them stood another small group. Snotlout, smirking, arms crossed over his chest; Fishlegs, also with rope in hand; Ruffnut and Tuffnut, trying to elbow each other out of the way to stand at the front; and Elsa, hands calmly crossed in front of her, a little off to the side of the others. “Oh, no. I am not endangering anyone else.”

“But you can’t stop us from endangering ourselves,” said Astrid. She marched smartly behind Hiccup, into the armoury, and grabbed an armful of rope. “Besides, I owe you an endangerment. You saved me from the Zippleback, remember?”

“And me from the Nadder,” said Fishlegs. That seemed such a long time ago now.

Snotlout shrugged. “You’ve never saved me, but there is no way I’m missing out on this.”

Hiccup looked over to Ruffnut and Tuffnut, but they both started speaking at the same time and he was too keyed-up to try to untangle what they were saying. With a sigh, he looked to Elsa instead.

“I thought you said that the ground was enough for you.”

“Maybe I am being greedy,” she said, with just a twitch of a smile. He wondered if she had taken off her cast herself, or whether Astrid had helped her to remove it.

He took another glance along the line of them, then to the dragons – so much less frightened than their wild counterparts would be when faced with armed teens – and sighed. Perhaps this would prove that it was not just him, not some quirk of his blood that made him the only person alive that the dragons would not harm. “All right, then. But stay _behind_ me.”

Astrid passed out the rope, and he showed them how to proffer up their hands to the dragons, to accept the nudge of noses against their palm.

“So _that’s_ what you were doing to the Nadder,” said Fishlegs, at the same time as Ruffnut and Tuffnut were commenting on how cool the whole thing was. The Gronckle nudged his hand and took a good sniff of him. “Hey there, boy.”

“Girl,” corrected Hiccup, off hand. When Fishlegs frowned, he waved it aside. “Just, trust me. Girl. And... guys, you could have left me a dragon, you know?”

That was aimed at all of them, in frustration. Ruffnut and Tuffnut were already on the two necks of the Zippleback, leaning side to side to make it sway its heads back and forth. Snotlout looked pleased with himself as he sat just behind the Nightmare’s horns, holding them as if he was going to steer using them. The Gronckle was still sniffing Fishlegs, and the Nadder had bowed its head to Astrid despite the fact that she was the reason for its latest war wounds. Or maybe that was a respect thing.

“So ride with me,” said Astrid. The Nadder bent slightly at the knees to let her climb on, wriggling its shoulders to get her settled in place. “She’s the fastest, right?”

Of course, Astrid had actually been paying attention as well. It was a bit more difficult to argue with someone who actually knew what they were talking about. Hiccup surveyed his remaining choices, then gestured Elsa over.

“Elsa, this is Fishlegs. Fishlegs, Elsa. The Gronckle should have room for two, right?” Both of them looked at him in faint bewilderment, and from the corner of his eye he could see Snotlout looking markedly disappointed. Though probably nobody but Astrid knew about the magic just yet. “I’ll do the full introductions later.”

Fishlegs looked at Elsa almost fearfully, then patted the side of the Gronckle. “Um, do you want to go first? Here,” he added, cupping his hands to make a sort of stirrup for her. Yes, Hiccup decided, definitely the best of the options right now.

He hurried over to Astrid, and accepted her help up onto the back of the Nadder. It didn’t feel quite the same as Toothless, the muscles placed differently, the wings further back, and the lack of saddle strange beneath him. They had made crude bridles out of rope, but that was the best that he could really manage at such short notice.

“All right,” he said, to everyone and no-one. “Grab any last weapons that you want. And let’s fly.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In case it was bugging anyone: no, it is no longer recommended that people with head injuries have to stay awake. However, they're Vikings, and I'm handwaving more than a bit.
> 
> The note about Stormfly being uncommonly fast for a Nadder is trying to reconcile the fact that she's the second fastest of the group's dragons (see _The Heather Report_ ), but that Nadders have a lower speed than Nightmares or Zipplebacks according to the How to Train Your Dragon website. I guess she's just unusual


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just realised this is a day late, sorry!
> 
> This chapter is more of a push towards the rating in terms of violence and gore, and refers to (original) character death.

There was a lot of screaming involved.

True, some of it might have been whoops of delight, but mostly it was just plain screaming as they got up into the air and headed, on Hiccup’s navigation, after the ships. He tried to open the Book of Dragons in the lee of Astrid’s back, fighting against the wind that tried to rip the pages away. The others were clinging to the bridles to stay on, but his legs had grown strong enough that he only needed one hand and could use the other to look through the extra quire.

Pretty much everyone had screamed at some point or another as the dragons had taken off – some of the poor beasts flying probably for the first time in years – and banked back and forth, or risen and dropped, before settling in on their course. The Nadder was the surest of them, perhaps trusting Hiccup the most, perhaps the least fearful. She hadn’t even flinched when Astrid had chosen a particularly large battle-axe to accompany them on their flight. Only Hiccup and Elsa were unarmed, because he hoped that they would reach the boats before the boats reached the island.

The wind plucked at his hands and threatened to rip out some of the looser pages, and he cursed beneath his breath as he tried to look through Bork’s notes. Some of the handwriting was dreadful. The Leviathan, the Kraken, the Green Death... all of them were sea-dwelling, but this thing had clearly been on land, hiding itself away inside the mountain.

He found the note scrawled at the bottom of the page for the Green Death.

_It is rumoured that there is a cousin of the Green Death, known as the Red Death, which instead makes its home on land and recruits other dragons to serve it. It is said to live two thousand years, and lay a hundred eggs which when hatched will fight among themselves until only one remains to become master of a new nest._

_\- Hawker_

A great-great-aunt, perhaps? Hiccup wasn’t even sure. But he snapped the book shut and had to resist the urge to beat his head against something, both because it was already sore and because the only thing he could beat it against would be Astrid’s back. Instead he clutched the book to his chest, clung to the Nadder with his legs, and took deep breaths.

Astrid reached into the pouches at her waist, and pulled out an eyeglass. He didn’t know that she owned one – he made a lot of them, playing with glass and tubes of leather, and handed them out every Snoggletog so that kids could play with them – and he blinked in surprise. Apparently unaware, Astrid put it to her eye and peered forwards through the clouds, trusting the Nadder enough now to use only one hand and the strength of her legs to hold herself in place.

“Hel,” she said fiercely. She turned to face Hiccup, wind whipping her hair around her face. “They’ve landed. And I can see fire.”

He almost ripped the spyglass from her hand to look himself. Sure enough, the peak of the mountain rose up from the fog below them, and through thinner patches he could see fire and _something_ moving.

“We need to get over there,” he said, lowering the glass again. “Now.”

“No kidding,” said Astrid.

He leant forwards, shifting his weight, and Astrid yelped as he pushed her down against the Nadder’s neck and shoulders as well. His heels pressed firmly into the Nadder’s sides, just below her wings. “Come on, girl,” he shouted as best he could. “Get us down there.”

Maybe the Nadder understood. With a great snap of her wings her speed increased, and he heard a yell behind them. It was Snotlout; the Nightmare must have sped up as well. The air rushed around them as they rushed down towards the boats, and Hiccup stuffed the Book of Dragons into his satchel and wrapped his arms around Astrid’s waist as they drew closer.

Then he saw the state of the island, and wondered if they really had come to Helheim.

 

 

 

 

 

Ships were landed – had been landed – all along the shore. Dozens of them were aflame, great red and orange tongues licking into the sky, fire so hot that it sent up clouds of steam around them. On the beaches, catapults and rows of stakes had been crushed to the ground. There was blood on the grey sand as well, and people lying all too still, but Hiccup tried not to look at them.

The Red Death. It stood on the beach, the mountain behind it cracking and crumbling away where it had been ripped apart by the sheer size of the creature. Rocks crashed to the ground, bouncing off the Red Death’s sides. It roared, the sound seeming to shake the very air, and fire billowed from its mouth into the sky that was bright red at the centre and sooty black around the edges.

“Thor in a thunderstorm!” said Ruffnut, somewhere behind them. “That’s awesome!”

Awesome was not the word that Hiccup would have used. There were no other dragons around, none of the thousands that he had seen – perhaps they had fled, as soon as the Vikings arrived and woke the Red Death from its lair. He couldn’t blame them. It seemed like all of Berk was on the shore, retreating from the creature, save for a handful still trying to distract it with ringing shields and waving weapons. They looked like toys beneath its feet.

“I need to get to Toothless,” he said to Astrid. “He must be on one of the ships.” The burning ships. Fire might not hurt a dragon, but if one of the boats sank with Toothless – a Night Fury, a dragon with no gills – still shackled... he had to shake the thought aside. “And we need to distract that thing. Get its attention away from the others.”

The ships on the shore could not have been the entire fleet that was taken; there must be others, anchored on another beach somewhere around the shore. If people could get to them, they might have a chance to get away. Hiccup looked down at the chaos, then up at the beast again as it gave another maddened roar. Yeah, maybe they’d missed the opportunity to get away from this one.

“Come on, girl,” said Astrid, and he felt her shift to urge the Nadder forwards. “Let’s give that thing a wake-up call.”

“Stay clear of the tail!” Fishlegs shouted. “It’s armoured! It won’t be nimble, but don’t let it hit you with _anything_!”

Hiccup turned to the others, to tell them to get away, but it was a little too late for that as well. He felt the drag of breath and heard the blast as the Nadder shot a fireball into the back of the Red Death’s head, flame splattering around.

The Red Death screamed in anger and wheeled around, but they were already beyond the reach of its jaws. Without prompting, Snotlout and the Monstrous Nightmare fired as well, hitting the creature so close to the eyes that it staggered sideways away from them.

“Drop me down,” Hiccup shouted into Astrid’s ear. “And be careful!”

“Careful? Vikings?” she shouted back, swooping down to a few feet above the ground. As Hiccup jumped down – or fell, to be fair, landing on his hands and knees – she added: “Like we know that word!”

Then she swooped up into the air again, and cut through the sky back towards the beast. All four of the dragons were around it now, launching a fireball here or vomiting up lava there, keeping it turning its head back and forth and roaring in frustration. They zoomed around it like flies. Getting back to his feet, Hiccup ran towards the ships, the wet sand gritty and cold despite the heat of the fires still burning.

Toothless would be on his father’s ship. It was at the very centre of the fleet, the centre of the blaze. Wading through the water, Hiccup pressed his sleeve over his mouth, squinting his eyes against the smoke and ashes. The boat sat low enough in the water that he could haul himself aboard, jumping away as flames licked at the gunwale where he had stood.

“Toothless! It’s all right, bud, I’m here.”

At the sound of Hiccup’s voice, Toothless gave a muted shriek and thrashed in his bindings again. Hiccup rushed over, grabbing the thick muzzle buckled around Toothless’s snout and pulling it away. Toothless cried out and bared his teeth.

His eyes were streaming from the fire. “Come on, Toothless. Hold on.” An abandoned axe was on the floor at their feet; it was hot as Hiccup grabbed it, but he’d spent long enough in the smithy not to fear that as he wedged it into one of the links of the chain and twisted. The metal groaned and contorted under the weight.

The smouldering remains of rope were around Toothless’s wings and tail. As they burnt away, he pulled them free, and lashed his tail across the deck with another cry. His wings flared, almost hitting Hiccup, who stumbled back and coughed, blinking fast against the water in his eyes.

“Come on!” he shouted, mostly to himself by this point. Toothless lunged upwards and the link of the chain that he had bent snapped, leaving only one behind. “Yes! That’s it!” He put the axe to another link on the other side, aware of roaring and crashing and screaming behind him but unable to think any further than Toothless and the trap that held him. It had been welded shut, and the iron was already starting to go a dull cherry red around the edges from the heat. The axe in Hiccup’s hands was starting to burn him. “Come on, one more. One more!”

Toothless was screaming a warning, but Hiccup barely had time to look up before the Red Death’s tail crashed down through the boats like a rockslide, crushing wood and metal in its path, slamming down through the ship that they were on. There was pain, and fire, and then suddenly Hiccup was flung into the water and falling, the cold so sharp that he gasped and his mouth filled with salt. He rolled over in the water to see Toothless, still chained to a portion of the deck and sinking fast.

 _No_. Beneath the water, Toothless could not even breathe his fire, could not set himself free. Hiccup swam down after him, lungs already burning, and only as he reached the chain and its ring realised that his axe was gone, that he had nothing to rip open the lock with. His head grew thick, burns on his body aching worse with the cold than they had even in the heat, and he wrenched again and again at the chain even as his vision started to blur and his arms to lose their strength.

Something grabbed him around the waist. He tried to fight it off, to pull away, but it was too strong and his sight was going grey, and then suddenly he was above the surface again and he drew in a raw breath, dropping against the sand as if all his strength had gone. He blinked, waiting for his vision to sharpen again and dribbling saltwater, and looked in bewilderment at the one who had pulled him out.

“Dad?”

But his father did not reply, diving into the water again. His fur cloak was a shaggy pile beside Hiccup, but the flash in his hand might have been the axe. For a few seconds that felt like hours, Hiccup sat there, choking up water and trying to breathe, then the water erupted upwards again and his father was dropped beside him on the beach by the dripping, livid form of a Night Fury.

Toothless landed in front of them, lashing his tail, and gave a furious shriek. Somehow, his fin had survived the fire and water both, and though his saddle was askew it had been left in place. He thumped his front feet on the ground, wings still half-spread, and Hiccup staggered to his feet and against Toothless’s side.

Humans couldn’t find the Red Death. Neither could the dragons. But maybe dragons and humans together could.

He pushed his hair out of his face as he hauled himself into the saddle, still panting and with his left arm searing hot. A hand wrapped around his wrist, and he looked down to see his father, hand bleeding and with a cut on his forehead, pain etched in his eyes.

“Hiccup,” he began softly.

“I know.”

He clasped his father’s hand for a moment, no longer feeling like his bones would be crushed beneath his father’s grip.

“You don’t have to do this.”

For a definition of _have to_... perhaps not. But there was never a question. “It’s an occupational hazard.”

Stoick squeezed, but almost tentatively. “I’m proud of you,” he said, voice rough from fire or water or something else altogether, “son.”

It took his breath away. Hiccup held onto his father’s hand as tightly as he was able. “Thank you, Dad,” he said. It was so quiet that for a moment he feared it might not have been heard, but Stoick nodded and almost smiled, and stepped back as Toothless’s wings spread fully.

Then he turned back to the Red Death, and his eyes narrowed. It was hard to think of that thing as a dragon when it killed and probably at dragons and humans alike. 

“Come on, Toothless. Let’s finish this.”

 

 

 

 

 

They hit the air like something from the lower realms. The water was rising in steam off Toothless’s body, the feel of his muscles under Hiccup’s legs now the most natural thing in the world. They streaked through the air, right past the Red Death’s nose, and it roared its anger and snapped its teeth at them but never had a chance of catching them. Wheeling, a flip in the air, and then they were alongside Astrid and slightly below, wings spread out below the Nadder.

“How are you doing?” she shouted.

To tell the truth, his legs were pretty much dry by now. “I’ve been worse,” Hiccup said.

The twins laid down a trail of gas almost across the Red Death’s face, and the Nightmare lit it with one burning wing. The Red Death screamed, the sound rattling the skies and sending both Toothless and the Nadder reeling back in the air, and when Hiccup looked again he could see that one of its eyes was clouded and marked.

Astrid struggled to calm the Nadder once again. Its eyes were getting wild now, its movements more erratic. The five dragons being ridden looked to be the only ones that had not fled. “So what’s the plan?” she called over.

Hiccup was still working on that one. Possibly a good thing, because at that moment the mountain beneath them crashed and roared again, and Hiccup pulled Toothless round in the air to see smaller dragons making their way out of the nest. They were nothing to the Red Death, but still huge, thirty foot high at least and spitting fireballs into the air. Some of them were already streaked with blood, fighting each other as they tumbled out.

“Oh, Hel,” said Hiccup.

“What is _that_?” shouted Fishlegs, careening in closer to them as Snotlout flew close to the Red Death’s head and flicked upwards at the last moment, making it try to lunge upwards with its forefeet coming off the ground. Elsa was still clinging to Fishlegs, even paler than usual, her eyes wide.

“Those would be the hatchlings,” said Hiccup. He looked from the hatchlings to the mother and back again. Legend said that they laid a hundred eggs. There had to be at least three hundred Vikings on the shore. In a flash, he made his choice. “Astrid, Fishlegs, go help the others. I’ll send the twins and Snotlout after you.”

“What about that?” said Astrid, gesturing towards the Red Death.

“That one’s mine.”

With a lean of his body, he peeled Toothless away, and glanced back to make sure that they were heading down. He swooped in near to the Zippleback and pointed towards the ground. “Get down there! Help them out! You too, Snotlout,” he added, as Snotlout swooped closer.

Snotlout looked round. “You what?”

The Red Death’s head snapped around, and the crest cut so close to them that Toothless actually flipped backwards in the air with a howl. It clipped the Nightmare’s wing and sent it wheeling in the air, and Snotlout slipped from its neck and screamed as he flailed through the air himself.

“Toothless!” Hiccup shouted, but the dragon did not need a prompt as he turned sharply in the air and plunged down, wings pounding at the air. They scooped Snotlout up – his scream hitched – then slowed just enough to drop him safely to the ground. “Get a weapon,” Hiccup shouted, holding Toothless in place for a moment. “And get to the others. Time to use that training.”

He passed the Zippleback, with Ruffnut and Tuffnut still in place, in the air. The Nightmare paused for a moment, looking uncertain, then turned as if it was about to fly away.

“No you aren’t,” Hiccup muttered. He opened up the tail, and they shot forwards, overtaking the Nightmare and swinging in front of it to scream into its face. The Nightmare’s wingspan had to be half as great again as Toothless’s, body so much larger that it must have been several times his weight, but it stopped and drew back as the Night Fury stared it down. Hiccup stood up in his stirrups, legs screaming at the unfamiliar move, and held out his hand. “Come on, big guy. Help me out here.”

The Nightmare paused, its pupils barely more than slits, steam coming from its nostrils. Then it carefully came towards him and nudged its great nose into the palm of his hand.

“All right,” said Hiccup. He could feel the beginnings of a plan forming. On the ground, the Vikings were going to battle with the hatchling Red Deaths, their skills and experience better suited to something of that size than the great impossible thing which now tried to roar flame in Hiccup’s direction.

Toothless and the Nightmare rolled to the left in the air, and Hiccup looked up along the crumbling mountain. His eyes scanned until he found what he was searching for, and without a word he urged Toothless forwards, leaning into the flight with his hands pressed tightly to the dragon’s shoulders. They levelled out high in the air, and Hiccup took a deep breath as he focused on the great crack in the rock, hoping that Toothless would know what he intended to do.

“There, Toothless! Where it’s weakest!”

He could hear the howl as Toothless built up his blast, then the kick as he fired. Heat scorched through the air around them, white flashed in front of his eyes, but the fireball struck right at the point that Hiccup had been aiming for. Cracks spread through the rock, great shards starting to sheer off and crumble away, and then Toothless was peeling away as the cliff shattered open and huge boulders began to rain down.

They might not hurt the Red Death, but they should be a distraction. Hiccup angled them towards the still-burning ships, the movements of his body more than enough, though he was muttering something that might have been encouragement or might not even have been words as they swooped down, the Nightmare falling in behind them.

With enough dragon attacks, they knew what wood burnt and what didn’t. Most of the ships were made of stout oak and other dense woods, the sort that resisted fire – though they had not been intended to handle the swipe of a dragon’s tail. Hiccup picked out the one that was still the most intact, though it listed so that the gunwale had dipped below the waterline and water was filling the hull.

“Perfect,” he said. He guided Toothless down to it, glancing to make sure the Nightmare was following. Toothless stopped above the flames with an indignant cry; perhaps he knew that Hiccup could feel the intensity of the flame, could hardly breathe with the ash. Hiccup turned to the Nightmare and pointed down towards the ship, some of the rigging still intact enough to grip. “Go on. Grab it!”

This would be a really good time for him to actually be able to communicate with dragons. At least with Elsa they had been able to teach and learn words. Hiccup gave a scream of frustration, and Toothless bucked in the air beneath him, shrieking and tossing his head. The Nightmare swept down into the flames, fire licking up onto its skin and spreading over its body, and tangled its great claws in the rigging of the ship. A beat of the wings, a second, and then the ship began to lift from the shore with the water still contained within it, creaking and sloshing but holding together just enough.

“Come on,” Hiccup urged him. “Come on, big guy, you can do it.” He really should have checked with Gobber whether the Nightmare was male or female – the others he knew, this one not so much. Hopefully it wouldn’t mind either way. “That’s it, come on, just a bit further. Up in the air we go. Come on, Toothless, stay with him, that’s it. You’re doing great, guys.”

The Red Death turned away, looking round to where the Vikings were tangled in battle with its offspring. They were only spitting small balls of fire, but even that was bad enough from dragons that could only be hours old. It roared; perhaps a mother’s anger, though Hiccup was loath to really think of the thing as a mother. But the fact that it had turned away was bad enough.

“Oh no you don’t,” said Hiccup. “Toothless, aim for the eyes!”

He flew Toothless in closer, then the dragon reared up beneath him and fired – as bright as lightning, white-hot and terrible – into the Red Death’s eye. The Red Death screamed again, staggering so hard that the whole ground seemed to shake, and lunged back towards them. Toothless nimbly evaded its jaws, and climbed higher, spiralling around to keep it occupied as the Monstrous Nightmare slowly but surely drew the boat up into the air. Finally, it came high enough, so that the Red Death had to stretch up its neck to aim towards them, so that its gullet was opened up like a massive black pit. Hiccup could see the white gas gathering in the back of its throat, and turned to the Nightmare with a shout that felt like the loudest noise that had ever escaped him.

“Now!" 

The Nightmare let go of the boat. It tumbled down, water spilling from its sides, right into the waiting mouth of the Red Death. Wood splintered and cracked, but more importantly the water rushed across the back of its throat, and that was just a little time without it able to spark.

A little time for him to think.

Far below them, the hatchling Red Deaths shrieked and cried as they fell, tangled in nets or pierced through with spears. There were human cries as well, battle-cries and screams of pain, and Hiccup knew that there would be some that would never leave this island. He thought that he saw his father in the midst of the fighting, but that did not surprise him in the slightest – there was nowhere else that Stoick the Vast would allow himself to be.

A flash of white hair caught his eye, and he dropped down through the air to see Elsa with a spear in her hands and fighting as defiantly as any of the others. Hiccup was just about to turn away again, his fears allayed enough, just enough, for the moment, when one of the hatchlings broke through a line of Vikings and bore down on Elsa.

“No!” he shouted, and prepared Toothless to dive. But even a Night Fury was not fast enough. He was just close enough to see Elsa turn, raising her spear, before the hatchling _spewed_ fire, the worst blast that any of them had yet producing, billowing red-orange flames that engulfed her in a heartbeat. “No!”

Everything dropped away. Because _no_ , she was finally safe and living and among people and now this had happened and it was just one more waste on top of hundreds. He almost slipped from Toothless’s back, the strength going out of his legs, and he clutched the saddle to stop himself from falling.

“No...”

The fire flickered out, and somehow, impossibly, a great chunk of ice stood up from the ground where it had been. Hiccup looked at it in disbelief, then the ice cracked and peeled away, and from the depths of it Elsa emerged. She straightened up from her knees, glittering blue-white in the weak sunlight and reflected fire, and he realised that she was dressed in ice – no, not dressed, _armoured_ , with a solid breastplate like the ones that they wore in Arendelle, an armoured skirt, and even an ice helmet gathering up her hair and encasing her head as he watched. Her spear was gone, the clothes she had been wearing burnt away, but as she stepped forwards she raised her hands and great spears of ice shot from the ground in front of her, cutting through the hatchling that had breathed its fire like a knife through tender meat. It howled as it died, deep red blood rushing over white ice.

The sound of the Red Death behind him was the only thing that bought him snapping back. He had to trust that they would be able to handle the hatchlings, however many there may be. There was a greater monster for him to deal with.

 

 

 

 

 

“All right, buddy,” he said, “one more to the eyes. Let’s get it into the air.”

In the air, it would be just them and the Red Death, nobody else to be hurt or to get in the way. The air gave them enough room to manoeuvre, enough to be safe. Toothless swept in and delivered a pinpoint blast to another of the Red Death’s eyes. It howled, and finally its wings unfurled.

For a moment, Hiccup regretted this all over again. Its wings were huge and ragged, a darker grey than the clouds, and as they spread the wind they buffeted the air and Toothless struggled to stay in place. It was too late now, though, and as it heaved itself into the air like some horror made flesh, Hiccup urged Toothless upwards and they wove and danced before it.

“Come on, buddy,” he said, feeling the strain as Toothless flew ever higher, into the darkness of the clouds where the sound of the fighting far below was muffled and dim. “Come on, bud. You can do this. We can do this.”

It was one thing to kill a dragon, a normal dragon of a normal size with weaknesses and rules and a shot limit. This was something else, the fire that it had spewed huge and unstoppable. Could it really produce that much gas? The wind was cold and sharp against Hiccup’s face, the moisture of the clouds soaking him all over again.

A furious roar sounded from somewhere around them, but the clouds made it impossible to tell exactly where it came from. Hiccup and Toothless hung where they were, cautiously, the heavy leathery snap of Toothless’s wings the only sound around them.

“Stay up here,” murmured Hiccup, looking for the shadow of the Red Death in the gloom. “Stay with us. We’re the ones you want.”

Fire filled the air. Toothless rolled sideways to avoid the great slick gouts of flame that surrounded them, the bulk of the Red Death looming suddenly into view. Hiccup clung to the saddle, letting Toothless wheel them away but not letting them get completely out of range.

“And another, bud. Let’s light her up.”

That limitless flame had to come at a cost, had to have a source. Toothless cut across the snout of the Red Death, so close that Hiccup could feel the snort of its breath, and fired deep into its mouth. The Red Death roared loud as thunder, but the blast hit the flap at the back of its throat that closed off the gas sacs, painful but harmless.

“Oh, come on!” shouted Hiccup. Nobody cared if he shouted up here; there was no-one to hear him but Toothless, nobody to see this. Just him, and Toothless, and the Red Death they had to face.

Timing. It had to be about the timing. And Fishlegs had said that it would not be nimble. He was still trying to piece it together when the Red Death sprayed fire again, lighting up the clouds like a lava flow, filling the air. They pulled away again, but he heard Toothless shriek and looked to see his fin burning away, wool turning to ash and metal buckling with the heat. It looked like time was something else that they were running out of.

Hiccup took as deep a breath as he could in the scorching air, and moved Toothless’s tail. “Come on, Toothless. Let’s go.”

They dove, faster than an executioner’s axe. The wind screamed in Hiccup’s ears, dragged at his skin as he pressed himself to Toothless’s back and held on with burning-cold fingers. His eyes streamed, and the world blurred from speed besides. He glanced over his shoulder to see the Red Death plunging after them, no faster than them despite her bulk, only their equal for a moment.

“Hold, Toothless,” he said, not even sure if Toothless could hear him. “Just a moment longer. Hold. Hold.”

He kept his eyes on the Red Death’s mouth, beyond the hideous shining teeth and the bundle of nerves that formed the spark. The depths of its gullet and its lungs were black hollows against the red of its throat, and as the flap for the gas sac opened they vanished away, sealed off. White-green gas pooled in the Red Death’s throat, readying, and with a wrench of his body Hiccup rolled Toothless over in the air so that they were both facing the creature.

“Now!” he screamed, voice raw and throat full of pain, and Toothless fired one more time. Before the Red Death could breathe its gas, it ignited, and a ball of flame engulfed its throat. It trickled from the edges of its mouth, burnt back into the sac and expanded so fast that Hiccup could see the fire through the creature’s skin, and as it convulsed he saw its throat open up again and then the fire was racing down there as well, consuming the Red Death from the inside, feeding on the gas of all the dragons that it had eaten before.

They rolled over again, and the ground was closer than he ever could have thought. Hiccup could not even think of a coherent prayer as Toothless spread his wings and fought against the speed of their fall, muscles labouring, grunts of exertion thudding through him as he pounded against the air.

The Red Death screamed as it hit the ground, a sound that made rocks fall from the mountains and shattered the sky. Flames licked around it, the body breaking apart under the force of its own fire, and Hiccup felt his skin searing and his mouth burning, Toothless fighting to fly with half of his tail gone and the air around them a hectic mess of fire and scales and shards of bone.

He tried to say something, to urge Toothless on, but the words would not come to his dry lips. He looked down, to see the distance they had gained from the ground – a height, but not enough, not with the fire still building. Then the pall of smoke around them thinned, and he looked up again just in time to see the great armoured tail of the Red Death bearing down on them again.

“No!” Hiccup cried, but it was too late, and the next thing that he knew they were slamming into it, both crying out, the pain worse than anything he had ever felt.

Then there was falling, and burning, and blackness. And the world ended.


	11. Chapter 11

The first thing that he really remembered thinking was that _everything_ hurt.

Hiccup groaned, then regretted it because even the inside of his throat ached. Slowly, he opened his eyes, and couldn’t help feeling surprised to see his bedroom ceiling above him for some reason that he couldn’t put his finger on.

He was pretty sure that it wasn’t morning. Waking up wasn’t usually this painful. Hiccup twitched the fingers on his hands and, well, at least that hurt less than groaning had done. Thor help him, he must have done something really stupid this time. Hopefully Stoick wasn’t going to be too mad about this.

“Hiccup?” mumbled someone next to him, sounding bewildered. Wait. There was someone next to him. Hiccup looked sideways, more rolling his head over, to see Astrid sitting beside his bed with the marks of rumpled fabric on her cheek. “Oh my gods! Hiccup! You’re alive!”

“I think so,” he croaked. He wasn’t entirely convinced. He raised his hand, and let it drop onto his forehead. “What did I do?”

For that matter, he wasn’t at all sure why it was Astrid here. Usually it was Stoick, looking concerned and vaguely disappointed, or Gobber looking concerned and vaguely amused. From time to time it had been Gothi, which meant that he’d really hurt himself. He wasn’t sure what would qualify for Astrid.

“Are you real?” he said, frowning. He tried to put his hands to the blankets and sit up, but his body was having none of it and he fell back against the sheets again.

Astrid grabbed his hand, looking amazed at him, and he stared at her blankly for a moment. Perhaps this was something to do with going flying on Toothless. He definitely remembered going flying with her.

“Did I fall off Toothless again?”

The laughter that burst from Astrid’s lips managed to sound both disbelieving and relieved, though where she was still clutching at his hand it seemed to reverberate up his arm. From the other side of him came a rumble, and then a huge wet tongue ran over his hand and he snatched it away before Toothless could completely slobber on him. He looked over to see Toothless on his right, tongue lolling out, looking either pleased with himself or outright gleeful.

“And what are you doing here?”

He was fairly sure that he wasn’t asleep, because he hurt too much for this to be a dream in any sort of fair world. Hiccup looked back to Astrid again, getting more confused by the second, as she actually pressed his hand to her chest.

“Gothi said you should wake up,” she said, “but she didn’t know how long. Toothless caught you after you fell, but you were both pretty banged-up.”

“I – fell – what happened to you?”

Astrid had a fresh scab running down her right cheek, and bruises on her forearms. She blinked at him, frowning, then realised and shrugged. “Oh, that. Nothing serious. You know the Hofferson motto. If you don’t get a scar–”

“–it’s not worth it,” he finished with her.

“But you... you really don’t remember?”

“I, uh,” Hiccup trailed off. That was a pretty good question actually. Trying to sift through his memory felt like trying to put water in a net. “We went flying on Toothless. I went... I went flying again?” He had a vague recollection of being on Toothless’s back with the stars above him, a scarf limiting what he could see. But no, there was something about being on the back of a different dragon, one that felt different beneath him.

“You went to Dragon Island,” said Astrid. “You found another dragon there, a huge one. It was controlling the others. Your father took everyone out to fight it, and we went on the dragons from the arena.”

“That sounds like me,” he admitted. Not so much the actually managing to find Dragon Island, but deciding that the best way to go join a fight against a large dragon was to free the dragons from the arena and go after them. Then another of her words got through, and he frowned. “We?”

“You, me, Snotlout, Fishlegs, the twins, and Elsa.”

“Elsa!” He had a stark image of her surrounded by fire, the world burning away. Hiccup tried to sit up again and completely failed, grabbing his stomach with a grunt and ending up propped on one elbow instead.

“She’s fine!” said Astrid quickly. She put her hand on his shoulder and gently pushed him back down to the bed instead. Yeah, horizontal was probably a better bet right now. “Look, I really have to go get your father and Gobber. They only went down to the wharves because the last boat was coming in. I’ll be right back.”

She ran from the room, and Hiccup winced at the pounding of her feet on the stairs. He rolled over onto his side, facing Toothless, and narrowly dodged being licked across the face again. “Bud, bud, come on.”

Toothless pronked in place, making the whole bed rattle, and Hiccup winced as his head pounded in time. The dragon hopped back and forth along the floor, then hopped his front paws up onto the bed and grinned in Hiccup’s face. Vaguely fishy breath rolled over him, and Hiccup chuckled and leant forwards so that his forehead bumped against Toothless’s.

“I know, I’m glad to see you too. I’m guessing you’re allowed in here now.”

Considering Astrid hadn’t said that they needed to get Toothless out of the room, something must have happened out on the island. Toothless whipped his tail, narrowly avoiding knocking over a vase full of flowers which had been put on the table beside his bed. He didn’t recognise those either. Gritting his teeth, Hiccup managed to get his backside underneath him and actually sit up, pushing aside the blankets to swing his legs over the side of the bed.

Or... not.

His left leg now stopped just a couple of inches below the knee, bandages covering the stump. Hiccup’s first reaction was to grab one of the blankets and pull him back over himself again, not just to hide his leg but because he was in nothing but his nightshirt, and that was damp with sweat in places. He took a deep breath, closing his eyes for a moment, and Toothless nudged his right knee.

“Thanks,” he said softly, and Toothless huffed.

Taking a deep breath, Hiccup drew the blanket aside again and looked down at the stump of his left leg. Every time he blinked, he expected it to be there again, and the muscles in his thigh twitched as he thought about moving his toes.

Well, the limb-to-person ratio on Berk had never exactly been the greatest. Somehow he wasn’t quite able to wrap his head around the change. Hiccup tentatively put a hand to the bandages, which were very white wool and slightly warm to the touch. He didn’t feel feverish, though. Berk knew how to deal with amputations, that much had to be said. He flexed his knee, the joint feeling stiff and alien but still responding, and put a hand on Toothless’s head.

Toothless chirruped, and leant in to sniff the bandages.

“Suppose that makes us even, huh bud?” He gave a gentle scratch, and Toothless’s eyes lulled slightly closed as he leant into it. Realising that Toothless’s fin was not attached – indeed, that his entire saddle and connecting rod was nowhere to be seen – Hiccup frowned, and as he saw the scuffs on Toothless’s side and the scales that had been scraped away the frown only deepened. “Looks like you’ve been in the wars as well.”

Yeah, it seemed that he had done something pretty impressive this time. Probably involving whatever it was that he had found on Dragon Island. Fishlegs was good with dragon species; perhaps he would know. Hiccup shifted where he sat, trying to find somewhere more comfortable, but there wasn’t really any angle that didn’t seem to hit some bruise or another. He ran his fingers over the red-purple marks on his arm, and wasn’t sure whether to be glad that he didn’t remember it or not. Ironic, considering he seemed to have done something particularly memorable this time.

He heard the front door bang open and quickly gathered the blanket over his lap again to try and retain some dignity as his father shouted, “Hiccup!” from downstairs. It might have gone a little better had Toothless not perked up his plates at the sound of Stoick’s voice, then bounded right over the bed, wing clipping Hiccup round the ear in the process, and started leaping around the far side of the room.

“Hey!” said Hiccup. He looked over, but Toothless looked utterly unrepentant, jumping up onto one of the overhead beams and hanging his head down to look at them. Hiccup sighed. “Really?”

“Son,” said Stoick, bursting up the stairs and into the room. Hiccup looked around just in time to see utter relief on his father’s face before he was swept into a hug, Stoick kneeling in front of him and crushing him to his chest. “You’re all right. Thank Odin, you’re all right.”

Hiccup did his best to throw his arms around his father’s neck in return, not sure what to make of his father embracing him so openly. “Dad,” he wheezed after a few second. “Can’t breathe.”

Finally, Stoick drew back, and Hiccup couldn’t quite look at his father’s watering eyes. “I’m sorry I wasn’t here,” he said. He cradled Hiccup’s cheek in one hand, though to be fair it was more cradling one side of Hiccup’s face. “I should have been.”

“You were chiefing,” said Hiccup, not even needing to be told. He had always known that his father was the chief as well, that there would be times when he would need to share him with the rest of the village. That hadn’t been the difficult part. “It’s fine.”

“No, no it’s not,” Stoick insisted. There were bags under his eyes, the fine lines at their corners looking more pronounced than usual, and Hiccup would have sworn that his father had a few more grey hairs than before. “I should have been with you.”

Someone else ran up the stairs, and Hiccup grabbed his blankets and tried to look dignified as Astrid came into his room once again. She looked slightly out of breath; they must have come running back. The thought made heat rush to his cheeks, and he just about managed not to squirm guiltily in place. “How _exactly_ did I manage this?” he asked.

“That thing tried to take you with it,” said Stoick. “It was that dragon of yours who stopped it.”

He nodded in Toothless’s direction, and Hiccup looked round in some surprise. Toothless murred something and cocked his head to the side, looking pleased with himself. “You’re not mad?” he said.

“I was wrong to be,” said Stoick, and Hiccup was so astonished to hear the words that he half-thought he could not have heard them at all. It was not as if Stoick the Vast was ever wrong. “You saw something in it the rest of us didn’t. And not just in it.”

“Ah, hah...” he gave a slight, nervous laugh. “Yeah, I know I should have told you, I’m sorry, I just–”

Stoick hushed him, making a vague gesture with one hand. “Don’t worry. We can talk about that when you’re better. You concentrate on that for now, and don’t worry about Elsa.”

That was enough to make Hiccup raise his eyebrows. It sounded like giving Toothless a name was a work in progress, but Elsa had apparently managed to get Stoick using her name within... however long it was he had been out. “You’ve met Elsa.”

Probably another part of whatever had happened on Dragon Island. He wished that someone would tell him all of the details of that.

“She should be on her way,” said Astrid. “She still can’t run, so Gobber’s with her.”

As if prompted, he heard the door downstairs pushed open again, and even more footsteps on the stairs. It was strange to have this much attention on him without being censured for something or other that he had done. Hiccup rubbed his temple and screwed his eyes shut for a moment to wait for the double image of Astrid to fade back into one. When he opened them again, Elsa was just appearing at the top of the stairs, with bruises on her cheek and a smile. Gobber wasn’t far behind her, muttering curses beneath his breath as he climbed the stairs

“You are still alive,” Elsa said simply.

“So I’ve heard,” replied Hiccup. Elsa’s cast had been removed, and she looked like she was wearing clothes that might actually fit. “You’re all right?”

“It is nice to sleep inside. And the pie is good.”

He burst out laughing, even if his ribs ached as he did so. His father was frowning and Astrid was smiling fondly, but Elsa didn’t seem to know quite what she had said. There had clearly been at least a certain amount of acceptance for Elsa if she had discovered the tradition of pies as a form of thanks. It felt good to laugh, like a weight off his shoulders, and his father’s hand came to the small of his back to help prop him up.

“Sorry,” he said, once he’d gathered himself again. “I shouldn’t. That’s just... that’s good.” There were worse things to be worrying about. He remembered the night that he had hit her with the net, the whole village out for her blood and even Astrid after her with an axe. Things had changed in the last couple of moons. “Where are you staying?”

“Your workshop,” said Astrid. She pointed to the far end of his room. “We moved your things up here.”

His desk was now in the far corner of the room, his notes and drawings hastily pinned up on the wall behind it. Hiccup almost winced to think that all of his sketches for Toothless’s tail must have been among them, but no, Toothless was in the room and nobody was running and screaming. A Night Fury and a wildling, in the same room as the chief of Berk. Perhaps he was still unconscious.

“Could be worse,” he said aloud. “So how many more dramatic changes did I miss?”

“They’re planning to reroof any of the buildings whose rooves were Gronckle hide,” said Astrid, while the others looked at him in confusion still. “Stormfly has taken a liking to the woodshed–”

“Stormfly?”

She actually blushed, shifting her feet. “The Deadly Nadder. The dragons didn't want to go back to the arena, and we can’t really blame them, so... she’s in the woodshed.”

He looked over at Toothless, still hanging from the beam. He flared his wings slightly in recognition, and rumbled. Considering the woodshed behind their house was rather smaller than the Hoffersons’, Hiccup supposed that Toothless would not have fitted in it anyway.

“That one wouldn’t leave you,” said Gobber, pointing to Toothless as well. “And you try getting a Night Fury out of a room.”

At that, Toothless dropped down to the ground and padded over, actually pushing Stoick out of the way to rub his head against Hiccup’s side. “Yeah, bud,” said Hiccup, rubbing his head. “I know. Thank you.”

“Oh, yeah,” added Astrid. “And Fishlegs loves those two baby Gronckles.”

The eggs. He’d forgotten about them. It would have been a few days at least until they hatched, but Elsa must have told Astrid about them or bought them to the village. Fishlegs must have befriended the Gronckle mother. “Oh. Those.”

“I’m sorry about the others, Hiccup,” Gobber started to say, sounding uncomfortable, but Hiccup shook his head and gestured for him to stop.

“You didn’t know. I didn’t say anything.” There might have been all eight, if he had taken that wheelbarrow, but he didn’t say that aloud either. At least the two of them were still alive. His head was starting to pound, and there was a faint buzzing in his ears. “It’s, it’s fine.”

“You look like you need to lie down again,” said Stoick, and as much as Hiccup wanted to disagree he couldn’t quite bring himself to. “Come on, dragon.” Gently pushing Toothless’s face out of the way again, he lifted Hiccup up and moved him back to the centre of the bed. If it weren’t for the pain, he wouldn’t have believed that this was actually real as Toothless simply huffed and walked round to the far side of Hiccup instead, lying down on the floor and putting his chin on the bed. “Gobber, can you see the last of the boats back in?”

“Of course,” said Gobber, “Spitelout’s down there as well. Besides, it’s the less injured ones now.”

“You rest,” said Stoick, taking hold of Hiccup’s hand. “I’ll be here. I promise.”

 

 

 

 

 

It turned out that once he had woken up, everyone seemed to want to make sure that he stayed that way. Of course, he knew that it was to do with the head injury, but that didn’t make it any less annoying to be woken up every couple of hours.

At least he got food out of it, some actual clothes, and a full description of what had actually happened on Dragon Island. “You’re the hero of the hour,” said Gobber breezily, putting down another tray of mutton stew on Hiccup’s lap and settling into the larger of the two chairs that were now in the room. He had ordered Stoick to bed somewhere around nightfall, adding that he hadn’t slept properly since they had come back from Dragon Island, which was now going on four days. “We’ve got so many pies that I’d say we didn’t know what to do with them, but that lass of yours can certainly eat.”

“She’s not my lass,” said Hiccup through a mouthful of stew.

“So she’s told me. I can hazard a guess where she learnt the term ‘possessive case' as well.”

“I used that once!”

Gobber chuckled. “Well, she learnt it all right. And once she found out I was the smith around here, she apologised for the jail cell.”

Hiccup looked at him warily.

“Oh, that neither?” He didn’t even seem surprised at how little Hiccup remembered of the last day or so that he had been awake. “Your father put you in there to stop you tangling with the dragons again, so Elsa and Astrid busted you out. Froze the iron and smashed it in. Astrid, I have to say, did not apologise for her part.”

“That sounds like Astrid,” he mumbled, whilst trying to ensure that there was no more than a few seconds at a time that there was not food in his mouth.

“Aye, it does. Anyway, according to Astrid she rounded up the others and took them to the arena, and you flew out on the bloody dragons. Well, we know about the dragons, we saw you arrive. The Red Death was already out by then–”

“The what?”

“Huge nasty cannibal of a dragon,” said Gobber, which did not particularly clarify the situation but was certainly a succinct description. Hiccup was almost glad that he couldn’t remember it at that moment. “Anyway, you took on the adult, while the rest of us dealt with the bloody newly hatched ones that came out from that mountain.”

That was enough to make Hiccup pause, spoon half-way to his lips, and look round in disbelief. He tried to reach through his memory, but came up absolutely blank and shook his head instead. “Do I want to know how big the hatchlings were?”

“Probably not, because then you’ll start wondering how big the one that you went after was. And let me tell you,” chuckled Gobber, trying to pinch a piece of Hiccup’s bread and being foiled only by a brandished knife, “that was a beast. So while you were dealing with yours, we were dealing with ours. And Elsa helped out with that.”

“Elsa...” Hiccup trailed off. He genuinely wasn’t sure what to make of the idea. Oh, he certainly had the memory, entirely without context, of Elsa surrounded by flame, but somehow he couldn’t quite imagine her with an axe in her hand. “She... ah...” 

Gobber sobered a little. “She used her magic,” he said, and Hiccup winced. Gobber waved his hook vaguely in the air. “Scared a few people, I must say, though they won’t admit it now. But saved a few lives as well, and some of those pies are for her. The jail was destroyed, and it wasn’t like we could hold her anyway, so she’s been escorted everywhere the past few days. Astrid spoke up for her."

“She did?” Using the last of his bread, Hiccup scraped the inside of his bowl clean. “Is there seconds?”

“Yes, she did,” said Gobber. “And no, you’re not having seconds when you’ve not eaten for days, you’ll make yourself sick. Said that Elsa had been attacked all over for her magic, and you were the one who gave her a chance. Said that we should do the same. This while the poor girl was standing there wrapped in just a cloak, mark you, looking like she was frightened we were going to turn on her, and your father still carrying you. We got her things from that little valley everything was hidden in – well, she and Astrid did, none of the rest of us could have gotten through that tunnel without crawling – and Stoick insisted she have your workshop.”

He considered making some sarcastic comment about actually being asked, but couldn’t quite bring him to. Elsa had told him that the cove was one of the best places she had lived over the years, but considering how much it rained on Berk it could still not have always been pleasant.

“She bought those eggs back with her. Didn’t seem sure whether or not she wanted to hand them over, until the Gronckle came over. Grumbled a bit, then picked them up in its mouth and took them off to wherever it’s hiding in Fishlegs’s house. Well, wherever she’s hiding, I suppose.” Gobber ran the back of his hand over his forehead, looking down at the side of the bed.

“I probably should have said something about the eggs,” said Hiccup, grimacing. He pushed the tray further down on his bed so he could lean on his right knee, and looked sheepishly up at Gobber. “I was going to take them all away, when I found them. The boats came back early.”

Gobber almost went to say something, then looked over at Toothless instead and sighed. The Night Fury was curled up under the slope of the roof, tail fin tucked over his nose and occasionally snuffling in his sleep.

“It’s not your fault,” said Hiccup. “You didn’t know what I did. Well, I don’t know that much either. Uh, did they explode?”

“Put them in a barrel of water,” Gobber replied. “Contains it all.”

“Well, you learn something new every day,” said Hiccup. Dragon eggs in barrel of water and wildlings in workshops. It sounded like the world was moving pretty quick outside his house.

 

 

 

 

 

It was the next day that the visits started in earnest. “Word had got around that you were going to wake up,” said Astrid, who had earnt his undying gratitude by sneaking up extra bread and honey when his father and Gobber weren’t watching. Even if Elsa, currently sitting on the foot of Hiccup’s bed, was taking half of it. “So as soon as they saw your father running off, they knew you were up. I think Fishlegs is bringing the hatchlings.”

“There’s some drawings of young Gronckles in the Book of Dragons, actually,” said Hiccup, gesturing to the book sitting on the edge of his desk. “The hatchling phase.”

“They are...” Elsa frowned, and looked at Astrid. “What is the word?”

“Mostly ‘cute’,” said Astrid. She wasn’t joining them in the clandestine food. “They’re different colours, and just sleep a lot and eat fish, really. And rocks.”

“Already?”

Astrid shrugged. “Looks like. They don’t seem to keep them down for long, though. Comes right back up.”

So much in the Book of Dragons, and so much that they still didn’t know. Hiccup shook his head and shifted uncomfortably again. His bruises were still impressively dark, and there was an occasional dull ache at the base of his skull, but he knew enough now to be relieved that he was awake at all. “So they’re letting the dragons just... be out and about in the village?”

“Not all of them,” said Astrid. “There hasn’t been an attack – I suppose there won’t be now. Hopefully. But the five from the arena, they’re staying with us. At least I think the Hideous Zippleback is with the twins. There’s been a few explosions out in the woods, which is probably them.”

“It doesn’t mean they’ve got the dragon,” said Hiccup.

Elsa pointed out the vase of flowers beside his bed. “You know those are from Tuffnut, yes?”

“Ruffnut,” said Hiccup, offhand. “They look really similar, but–”

“No, it really was Tuffnut,” said Astrid. Hiccup paused, bread halfway to his mouth. “Ruffnut sent pie.”

He really wasn’t sure how to respond to that.

 

 

 

 

 

Fishlegs turned up that afternoon, with a baby Gronckle on each shoulder and the mother trying to follow him through the front door then perching on the roof and sticking her head through the window instead. One was greenish, with yellow spots, and the other more purple with bright blue, but they both jumped onto Hiccup’s bed and rolled around excitedly in his lap at the mere sight of him.

“You’d think that they knew it was you who rescued them!” said Fishlegs. “I mean, they’re really friendly in general, but I’ve not seen them roll over that quickly!”

It was less than a minute, and both of the Gronckles were on their backs while Hiccup scratched their bellies, stubby legs wiggling about in the air. He should have known that Astrid wouldn’t use the word ‘cute’ without good reason. Toothless padded over to the bed and sniffed at one of them, head cocked, then backed up with a snort.

Fishlegs laughed nervously. “He’s... going to be all right with them, isn’t he?”

“Probably just wondering what they are,” said Hiccup, with a glance over at Toothless. There was so much that he wished he could ask – how old Toothless was, where he came from, where Night Furies in general came from. At least with Elsa he could get answers to those sort of questions.

Toothless padded closer again and set his chin on the side of the bed; one of the Gronckles rolled over and whapped him on the nose with one foreleg and a squeaking sound. With an insulted snort, Toothless pulled away again, then raised one paw with a determined look. A look of horror crossed Fishlegs’s face, but before he could step forwards Toothless simply reached out and rocked the Gronckle back and forth on its back.

“I think he’s good,” said Hiccup. For a moment they both stood there, watching Toothless nudge the Gronckle hatchling while it squealed in delight and tried to catch his paw, while the other one lay between Hiccup’s knees and rumbled contentedly. “Say, did you know that Astrid’s named the Nadder?”

To his surprise, Fishlegs started looking sheepish. “Well, we sort of all started naming the dragons. Astrid was first – there was this big storm while we were flying back, and pretty much as she landed she said that the dragon was going to be named Stormfly.”

Hiccup glanced up to the mother Gronckle currently watching them from the window. “Does she have a name yet?”

“Meatlug,” admitted Fishlegs.

He nodded. “Suits her. Nice to see you again, Meatlug.” If he stretched his hand right up and she leant down, he could just about scratch her under the chin. “Sorry I don’t have any dragon nip this time.”

“Is that the grass that you were feeding them?” said Fishlegs. He carefully stepped around Toothless to take one of the chairs at Hiccup’s bedside. “The wild- um, Elsa, she bought some with her when she bought all of her things.”

“Yes, that stuff. Toothless introduced me to it,” he said, waving to the Night Fury, “but I gave it to the ones at the arena and they liked it as well.”

“There’s nothing like that in the Book of Dragons.”

Well, Bork had been studying the dragons to try to work out how to kill them, as much as from curiosity, but Hiccup didn’t say that aloud. He could feel the beginnings of a shift, hear it in the way that Fishlegs spoke and see it in the interest in his gaze. The same wonder that had started in Hiccup while he sat with Toothless’s injured tail in his lap was starting to creep out into other people. It made him feel a little bit giddy.

“Well,” he said, “maybe we should get hold of a copy and start adding to it. My father might let us use ours. Or maybe even Gobber, his is the best at the moment.”

A look of panic crossed Fishlegs’s face.

“What have I said?” said Hiccup slowly.

“You _kinda_ took Gobber’s Book of Dragons with you to Dragon Island,” said Fishlegs, the words starting off slow but not staying that way for long. “And after the Red Death, youdidn’tbringitbackagain.”

Somehow, that felt worse than his foot. Plenty of people on Berk had lost limbs, and with or without prosthetics they just went along with life again. But Gobber’s Book of Dragons had been only one copy away from the original written by Bork himself, and had been added to over the generations. Even with every note Bork ever made, it could not be reconstructed.

“Hel,” said Hiccup, voice going weak. He pinched the bridge of his nose. “I didn’t remember that.”

“It’s fine!” said Fishlegs. Hiccup looked at him dubiously. “I mean, Gobber’s not mad or anything. I told him about the book and he said that he was only worried about you coming back. Books can be rewritten, he said.”

Hiccup took a deep breath, then when one of the hatchlings batted his knee indignantly resumed the belly rubs that he had been providing. It was astonishingly soothing to have a baby dragon there, like a purring hot water bottle. “We’ll rewrite it for him,” he said firmly. “All the notes and more. Add all this new knowledge.”

“This is so weird,” said Fishlegs quietly. Hiccup looked round. “I mean, we grew up hearing about dragons carrying off babies, and now we’re sitting here with two baby dragons.”

“I think the Red Death changed everything,” said Hiccup after a moment. As his hand still again, the hatchling in his lap rolled over onto its front and waddled right up to him with a hopeful expression, when he put his hand on its head it rubbed against him. “They were frightened, and it made them into something they wouldn’t normally be. I mean, we were frightened by the dragons, and it made us fight them.”

Some people still were. Just that morning, Stoick had been called away to break up a fight about whether the six dragons – eight, including the Gronckle hatchlings – should be allowed to live on Berk. Some wanted them to be set free and sent away, but others wanted them killed so that Berk could be rid of dragons once and for all. Hiccup had heard parts of the argument through his window, so loud had it become at times.

“I think Toothless was asking me for help,” he found himself saying. Toothless looked up at the sound of his name, and Fishlegs took the opportunity to scoop up the second hatchling off the bed. “Eh, bud? When you took me to see the Red Death? As soon as he knew he could trust me... trust us, humans, Elsa was there as well... he showed me.”

Fishlegs cradled the second Gronckle to him, where it set about trying to climb the fur of his vest. “And it took both of you to kill it. I mean, I can’t believe you did that. Not you, I mean, that anyone could do it,” he said quickly, though Hiccup was not at all offended even by the first version of his sentence. “It was just so...” he shuddered. “Even the hatchlings were bad enough. I never want to have to fight another dragon again.”

“Well, hopefully we won’t have to,” said Hiccup. The Gronckle tried to climb onto his thigh, lost its balance, and flopped over with an offended yelp. Chuckling, Hiccup helped it to right itself even as the mother huffed overhead. “I mean, look at how these guys are. They can grow up without the Red Death forcing them to steal food from us. No, don’t nibble my fingers,” he added, as the Gronckle decided he looked appetising enough to nip at, or maybe just tried to get his attention.

From above them, Meatlug made a hocking-up sound, then spat half a fish down onto the bed right in front of Hiccup. Both hatchlings leapt gleefully towards it, wings pattering against their backs.

“Though _that_ part might take a bit more getting used to.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello! And welcome to approximately the second half, or at least the second arc, of this fic. For reasons that are probably now clear, it is unofficially called the _Leg Arc_ (sorry, Hiccup). From this point, elements of _Riders of Berk_ will appear, but knowledge of the series shouldn't be too important for understanding where we're going next. Give or take, it's just a couple of months post-HTTYD.


	12. Chapter 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For those who had not seen it, I had also posted a scene which goes somewhere around last chapter, but between Astrid and Elsa. It's called [Blood Sister](http://archiveofourown.org/works/5779612), and is part of the same series.

“Is it weird that I find this interesting?”

Hiccup tried to look closer to see what Gothi was actually doing, and earnt himself a rap on the forehead for his trouble.

“She says to stay still,” said Gobber, as if that wasn’t already apparent. “And would probably add that it was easier while you were still unconscious, if her hands weren’t busy.”

The fact that Gothi didn’t hit Gobber over the head for his addition meant that she agreed with it. Hiccup bit the inside of his cheek and made himself sit still as Gothi changed the heavy bandages around the stump of his left leg. For the first couple of days, he had not been able to bring himself to look while it was happening, as if unmentionable horrors were going to spill forth, or his knee was suddenly going to produce a fountain of blood. The truth was that it was just... skin. Stitched in a sort of star pattern to cover up the stump, sure, but skin all the same. A little bit underwhelming after all the build-up.

Gothi bandaged up again with practiced movements, despite her age and her swollen finger-joints. She had seen the aftermaths of so many amputations that probably even she had lost count of them, and this was second nature by now. Every family seemed to be missing at least one limb.

Maybe that could change now. Toothless was watching from the foot of the bed, plates up and an outright curious expression on his face, and Fishlegs was making a habit of bringing round the Gronckle hatchlings every day. Drawings of them were building up on the table beside Hiccup’s bed.

“Thanks, Gothi,” he said. She nodded, and traced a few lines across the floor with her staff, followed by a few sharp taps.

“She says you’d best be doing it yourself before too long,” said Gobber, and Hiccup laughed. Well, at least it would give him something to do. He was already getting bored, with only talking to people to fill up his days. He’d even joked with Fishlegs that he and Pig should have another go at their basketry together. “It’s been seven days, and you’ll have to learn sooner or later.”

“Then can I get crutches?”

His father had said no. Then he had said no again, and louder, when Hiccup kept asking just to be allowed to get out of his bed and sit at his desk for a while instead. It was difficult to even draw when he didn’t have two good knees to balance a board on. He was getting more and more sick of his bed with each day.

Gobber just gave him the well-practiced look which meant that it was up to Stoick, and not Gobber, what went on in this household. Groaning, Hiccup went to flop backwards onto the bed, but managed to stop as he heard Elsa politely excuse herself as she entered the room.

Being indoors agreed with her. Hiccup wasn’t sure that he would actually recognise her as the wildling from the sinkhole any more, even if her memory did not seem to be as good when it came to boots as when it came to vocabulary.

Gothi paused, gesturing with her staff and pointing to Elsa’s foot. Elsa looked over at Hiccup, who could only shrug, then turned an increasingly uncertain gaze on Gobber.

“How’s your foot doing?” he translated.

“Ah.” Elsa smiled, and turned back to Gothi to give her answer. It had taken Hiccup a lot longer to get the hang of that when he was a child, talking to one person and hearing their answers from another. “It is well, thank you.” 

With another few sweeps and taps of her staff, and a gesture to Hiccup, Gothi turned and left, with Elsa still looking faintly bewildered in her wake.

“And she says you did a bloody good job on that foot, considering you hadn’t a clue what you were doing,” said Gobber. When Hiccup looked vaguely sceptical, he shrugged. “All right, that was the gist of it, at least.”

For a moment, Elsa looked down the stairs after Gothi, then the front door closed and she shook her head before turning back towards the bed. She had a tray of food in her hands, which Hiccup had come to consider the norm both because he was constantly hungry and because Elsa was apparently astonished by how much food was always available in the village. There were no leftovers around her, Gobber had commented. Elsa went to sit on the bed by Hiccup’s good leg, but Gobber quickly moved round the smaller chair so that it was closer to her. She looked in surprise from it, to him, and back again.

“Thank you.”

“No problem,” said Gobber cheerily.

Hiccup peered over at the tray in interest as Elsa sat down, unsurprised by the cheese and bread, but frowning at the sight of the sealed pottery vessel on it. Picking it up, he turned it over in his hands until he found the neatly-written label. “No way,” he said. “That is not the Holsens’ quince preserve.” There was always an outbreak of people trying to trade for that over the winter, and they never made enough for everyone to get hold of some. This would have to be the last jar or so of the previous year’s.

“Do I get to at least try that?” asked Gobber.

Startled from his astonishment, Hiccup laughed and nodded. “Well, I wasn’t planning to eat the whole jar myself. We should probably save some for Dad, though.”

“You could always hold it hostage for your crutches,” said Gobber.

“Might be good enough to work,” said Hiccup, grabbing the knife before anyone else got to it, and putting it between his teeth while he wrestled the lid off the jar. “Gobber,” he said as he started spreading the preserve, “I’m sorry about the bars. I’m pretty sure I said I’d fix them.”

“Aye, and you’re in the perfect condition to do that,” said Gobber, with a gesture to his leg. “If anyone needs locking up, I’ll just put them in the arena for now. If they get really bad, I might put the dragons back in with them.”

Well, that would certainly make for a deterrent, Hiccup had to admit.

“Anyway,” Gobber continued, “what I need your brains for is figuring out how to remake the tail for that one.”

“Really?” He almost dropped cheese down his front in astonishment.

“Well, none of those scribbles you left in your workshop made too much sense.”

Hiccup shook his head. “No, I mean, you’ll really help me remake Toothless’s tail?” Toothless, who had been busy trying to put his head in Elsa’s lap and looking adoringly in her direction, looked round again at the sound of his name. “But... why?”

“Hiccup,” sighed Gobber, “by the time that we’ve got a dragon sharing your room with you, I don’t think that fixing its tail is going to be too much of a stretch.”

It was true that Hiccup had been altering Toothless’s tail as he went along and not bothering to actually mark the changes that he had made on his sketches. After all, they were only for his own notes. “If you get me some fresh paper, I can write...” he remembered Elsa on the other side of him and looked around with an apologetic smile. “We must be boring you.”

“I am listening to the words,” said Elsa patiently.

Well, if she was comfortable with it. Hiccup shrugged to himself and leant over to push Toothless’s snout away from the tray. “Oh no you don’t. No tail for you if you keep eating our food.”

He pretended not to see Elsa sneak Toothless a sliver of cheese as soon as he went to turn away.

“I can write up the changes I made. Wouldn’t that be good, bud? Get you up in the air again?”

Toothless snorted and butted Hiccup’s elbow. It sent pain jarring up his side, but he just chuckled through gritted teeth and scratched the dragon behind the ears in return.

“Yeah, I figure we can work on that.”

 

 

 

 

 

The Gronckle hatchlings were trying to fly by now. They could only get off the bed for a few seconds, legs flailing and eyes wide with glee or terror, before they flopped back down again, but their mother made encouraging grunts from the window and Fishlegs was beside himself with delight. “They’re growing up so fast!” he declared, as the purple one tried to pounce on its sibling and failed terribly. “At this rate they’ll be able to fly solo within a few more days!”

“Maybe it would have worked,” said Hiccup. “Though with how well my plans have gone this summer, I really can’t swear to that.”

“I think Fishlegs is better with them than I am,” said Elsa, currently standing at the foot of Hiccup’s bed, watching the Gronckles with a faint smile.

“I don’t think anyone is an expert in raising dragons,” said Fishlegs. “Well, except dragons. But they throw up less than my little sisters did.”

Hiccup and Astrid were odd among the village for being only children, and Hiccup knew that there had been attempts over the years to get his father to remarry. Even after it had become clear that he was happy with Gobber and their comfortable situation. As for Astrid’s family, it was an open secret that her parents had wanted more children but been unable to have them. She was still better around children than Hiccup was, though, because children tended to think that it was cool if you could put your axe through a bullseye ten yards away.

“Well, at least we’ve got Meatlug to show us what to do, huh Meatlug?” Hiccup craned his neck upwards to where Meatlug was in her usual spot. Her ears waggled and she leaned down as if she was about to lick him, but mercifully she couldn’t reach. “And you get to keep your little ones.”

“My mother keeps offering to send more fishcakes,” said Fishlegs, shaking his head. “She seems to have decided that you’d like to live off them.”

“From what I hear, we’ve got enough pie downstairs to feed a small army,” replied Hiccup. “And if the dragons don’t have to feed the Red Death, they shouldn’t be stealing our food anymore. Hopefully that’ll placate my Dad some, at least.”

“I wonder whether that was what made them so bad when we were small,” said Fishlegs quietly.

Hiccup saw the curious tilt of Elsa’s head, the way that she looked between the two boys. “Fifteen, twenty years ago,” he said, “there were a lot of dragon attacks. It’s all in my mother’s journal, actually – I have to show you those,” he added to Fishlegs. “Mine too. It’s got information about the dragon attacks going back years. But anyway, they were taking more food, more sheep, more fish,” he took a deep breath; “some people say that children got taken. It passed, in time, but people still remember it.”

“It was before me,” said Elsa, shaking her head. “Or when I am – I was in Arendelle.”

Stoick still hadn’t spoken to Hiccup about that. People were getting less wary of Elsa, apparently, as she went on without using her magic, but she was uncomfortable being stared at and was spending more and more time in Stoick’s house instead. Hiccup understood, but it didn’t stop him from being a little bit jealous when the bruises on his legs were still dark because he wasn’t able to move around and get his weight off them.

“It was mostly before us as well,” he said. “A lot of people left Berk around them.”

Not everyone. Stubbornness seemed to be a Viking trait. Hiccup supposed that even he, making friends with a wildling and climbing on the back of a dragon, had more than a little of it.

“But there’ll be no more of that,” he said firmly. Things were already changing. He was going to see to it that they changed further, he was already determined of that. He had shown Gobber how he had made Toothless’s tail, and Gobber had promised that, in between the hundreds of nails he was producing and other work he needed to do, he would get a replacement made. Apparently, many people had been taking down the dragon heads or other trophies that they had, and a bonfire on the beach had been burning for a couple of days now to dispose of them.

Of course, it was just as he was making that confident exclamation that the shouting outside started up.

“If _anyone_ wants to go near this dragon, they’ll have to go through _me_!”

“Oh, Hel,” said Hiccup, “that’s Astrid.” He’d heard snippets of a few other arguments over time, but usually his father had gone in to stop it. Stoick was currently down at the wharves, though, talking to the shipwrights about what could be done before winter set in, and what would have to wait until summer. “I have to see this.”

“Hiccup!” Fishlegs protested, but Hiccup squirmed his good leg up and got it against the bed.

“Look, just help me stand up, will you?” He could see out of the window if Meatlug would move out of his way; Astrid sounded like she was close, maybe within sight. He tried to stand up, but couldn’t get the leverage until Elsa stepped forwards and put a hand under his shoulder to help. With a nod of thanks, he managed to get himself upright and grab hold of the windowsill for support, coming face to face with Meatlug. “Come on, girl, let me see.” He put a hand on her snout to steer her out of the way, and wobbled but managed to stay standing to look outside.

The Nadder – Stormfly, that was why Astrid had called her – was standing in front of the Hoffersons’ house, wings flared and tail arched above her back in defence. Worse than that, Astrid was standing in front of her with axe in hand and a grim expression, and a good eight or ten men and women were arrayed opposite her with weapons in their hands.

“She helped save you all,” shouted Astrid. “And I, for one, remember it.”

“All dragons are killers,” replied one of the men. From here, Hiccup could not see who it was, nor recognise the voice. “That one as well. They should all be killed.”

“I need to get down there,” said Hiccup. He tried to turn around, got his foot twisted in his bedclothes, and would have fallen to the floor had Fishlegs not caught him on the way down. Even so, there was a terrible moment where he was in the air, arms pinwheeling, and it felt so familiar that bile rose in his throat. He clutched Fishlegs’s shoulder, and Toothless almost leapt over to his other side. “I need to help Astrid.”

“You stay here,” said Fishlegs. “We’ll go.”

“You’ve adopted dragons as well,” said Hiccup, “and people still call Elsa a wildling. If they won’t listen to Astrid, are they going to listen to you?”

It came out sharp, perhaps from the ache in his head or the way that his lower left leg, the part that wasn’t even there any more, felt like it was being crushed to nothing. But Fishlegs paused for a moment, and didn’t argue. “There’s some crutches downstairs,” he said instead. “I saw Gobber put them by the door. But how–”

The stairs didn’t feel like the hard bit. Hiccup put one hand on Toothless’s head to steady himself, then swung his bad leg over and slid into place on Toothless’s back. It was strange to not have a saddle, the scales more slippery beneath his legs, but at the same time more natural.

“There we go, bud,” he said. “Nice and steady now.”

He did not feel like compounding his injuries by going head-first down the stairs. Elsa and Fishlegs exchanged a glance with each other, then Fishlegs shrugged and let Hiccup get on with it. For which Hiccup was particularly grateful right now.

Toothless took a cautious few steps, wriggling his shoulders slightly to help Hiccup settle into place, then started down the stairs. At first Hiccup almost lurched off face-first, but he managed to get his balance back and tucked his foot back behind Toothless’s legs to help keep his balance. At least he could see the crutches, right next to the front door and tantalising. As soon as they were in reach, Hiccup grabbed hold of them and nudged Toothless with his foot to stop him.

“Thanks, Toothless. Right, now then...” he slid his good foot back to the floor again, wrangled the crutches into place, and stood up on them. The others hurried down the stairs behind him.

“Are you sure this is a good idea?” said Fishlegs. He had one Gronckle on each shoulder again.

“Nope.” Hiccup leant against the doorframe and hauled the door open. “But I’m going to do it anyway.”

After all, it wasn’t as if something being a bad idea had stopped him recently. He’d used crutches once before, years ago, when he had badly sprained one ankle and needed them for half-moon or so. It wasn’t too difficult to use them again, although he wobbled a bit on his first few steps and his shoulders complained at the sudden weight on them.

“There’s plenty of missing legs around here,” he muttered to himself. “Not so many dragons.” Surely building a friendship with a dragon had to be the harder part. From down here, the argument was clearer, and he turned himself towards it. His steps might have been frustratingly slow, but at least for the first time in days he was _moving_.

“You stand there,” Astrid was saying, “acting like you’re the _brave_ ones? Oh, yes, because it’s so brave for nine of you to come after one dragon.”

“And one Hofferson brat,” said one of the women, and Astrid’s eyes narrowed dangerously. Oh, Thor. Hiccup increased his pace a bit.

“If you say one thing about my family,” growled Astrid.

Before it got completely out of control, Hiccup spoke up. “You’ll have to say it in front of me as well,” he said. Not his best line, but it at least got people looking round to him. He stopped, figuring that it would be easier to stand still on the crutches than it would be to try to get any closer to Astrid. “What’s going on here?”

“Hiccup? What are you doing up?” said Astrid.

“Surprised the boy’s alive,” one of the men muttered. Hiccup didn’t see which one of them it was, the sun just a little too bright for comfort.

“Hoark?” he said, “Bloodbeard, Lugstick?” Strange to think that he knew them all, even if he did know everyone on Berk. “Azora, Mudbreath? What are you doing here?”

“The dragons are a danger,” said Lugstick, who was standing at the front with a sword in his hand. “They shouldn’t be on Berk.”

“Yes,” said Hiccup, “because you were doing so well against the Red Death before we and the dragons arrived.” It was slowly coming back to him now, and he remembered enough to be confident in his words there. “Tell me, how many people did it kill?”

Brothers and sisters, husbands and wives, shield partners and friends. The Red Death had been killing before Hiccup arrived, and even now there were people far worse injured them him, still trying to drag themselves from the claws of death.

But Lugstick scowled. “Aye, and that thing was the one that led us there.”

He gestured with the sword towards Toothless, who growled. Hiccup held out a hand to Toothless, not even expecting for him to come and nudge against it. “Toothless helped me to kill it. It would still be there if it weren’t for him.”

“That doesn’t mean that they should stay,” said Azora angrily. “If they helped, then all the good to them, but they shouldn’t still be on Berk.”

“Well frankly,” said Hiccup flatly, “if you don’t want to be around dragons, then Berk was never the most sensible of places to live, was it?” They had been fighting them for three hundred years. Nothing stopped people from moving to other islands to join other villages, or even from joining Berk. It was just that people who did the latter, like Gobber, were much rarer. “Because I am not going to let you harm these dragons.”

Someone snorted, failing to cover up the sound of laughter in it. Hiccup did not rise to the bait.

“Oh, really?” said Lugstick. “And how is a boy with half a leg going to stop us?”

“The son of the chief is going to stop you,” he replied.

That actually made them pause. It was strange – people knew that Hiccup was Stoick’s son, but they didn’t always seem to make the connection that he was the son of the _chief_. It was like Stoick had two roles to fill, and a son like Hiccup could only feature in one of them. Well, it was about time he stepped into the other as well.

“If you have a problem with the dragons, it should be bought up at the village council on the new moon, not by waving axes around in the middle of the street.” Hiccup had the strangest feeling that some of them, at least, were looking at him with _respect_ in their eyes. Neutral attention had been strange enough; positive was practically fantastical. “Until then, the dragons are doing us no harm. It is not right for us to do harm to them.”

Toothless was glaring at the men, but he tried not to think about that part too much. Or about the fact that his leggings were pinned to the back of his leg to keep them out the way, or the scabs still on his face. That probably wasn’t exactly helping the air of authority.

Swords were sheathed, and some of the people slunk away immediately, leaving only Lugstick and Azora trying to stare Hiccup down. He broke the gaze first, but only to make his way over to Astrid and Stormfly, and get his balance well enough to stroke the Nadder’s back. Her tail came down, and her wings relaxed. “You see, Stormfly?” he said, loud enough to be heard. “I’m not going to let them hurt you.”

He resolutely did not look back over his shoulder to the men behind him, keeping his eyes on Stormfly and on Astrid. Only when Astrid lower her axe did Hiccup dare to look back over his shoulder again, his legs starting to shake. He grabbed at his crutches to keep himself upright.

“What are you doing up?” said Astrid again, looking at him in disbelief.

Hiccup tried to shrug, then realised that was a very bad idea as he almost lost his grip on the crutches. “You know. Got bored, came to see if there was anything going on.”

“You’re mad,” said Fishlegs, but he sounded a little bit impressed. “You just told nine armed Vikings to go away!”

“They might have swords,” said Hiccup, “but I do have a dragon.” He went to turn around, only for the end of his crutch to slip on a patch of mud and for him to slide sideways. Toothless caught him with an unimpressed huff.

“Apparently that is a good thing,” said Elsa.

“Yes, it does seem so, doesn’t it?”

Which was about the time that he heard his father shouting, “Hiccup!”

 

 

 

 

 

It turned out to be one of those very rare occasion that Hiccup had any success in changing the subject. Mostly because this time he opened with, “You know what, Dad? I think I’m well enough to talk about the Silver Priests now.”

Apparently that was enough to get Stoick’s attention. Although he was pointed back in the direction of the house, he was allowed to make his way there under his own power rather than being bodily lifted up in a way that Stoick was definitely both willing to and able to do. It felt fantastic to sit on one of the benches around the fire while Toothless wandered around the room sniffing and nosing random things.

“I think you should head home, Fishlegs,” said Stoick to the taller boy, stopping him with an arm across the doorway. Fishlegs nodded, blurted something in Hiccup’s vague direction, and fled. There was a _thunk_ as Meatlug took off from the roof to follow him. Closing the door carefully enough for it to be unusual, Stoick turned back to Hiccup and Elsa, and gestured down to the bench. “Sit down, Elsa. We’re not going to hurt you.”

Hiccup shuffled along a little on the bench, so that she could sit on the end closer to the door. Slowly, Elsa lowered herself down, all the while not taking her eyes off Stoick.

“Now, I know that you told Spitelout what had happened to you,” said Stoick gently, sitting down in his great chair, “and I’m sorry that I made you wait before telling me, but I had other worries.” Hiccup felt heat rise in his cheeks. “I needed to hear this with a clear head, I’ll wager. Now, if you wouldn’t mind... tell me where you came from.”

Elsa’s eyes were wide. Hiccup reached over to touch her hand, but she jumped at the touch and almost shied away before gathering herself and taking a deep breath. “I was born in Arendelle,” she said. Her words were still a little slow, and very carefully spoken, but her accent was muted and easily understandable. “I am eighteen now. I think. I had mother, father and smaller sister. And from when...” she glanced over at Hiccup.

“From when you were born,” he supplied.

“From when I was born, I have magic. Ice.” Her fingers twisted into the trollwort around her wrist, the bracelet started to fray now. Perhaps they would have to find more plants for her. “When I was young, I did not know that I needed to hide magic, but my parents hid it. When I was eight, there was an accident. The Silver Priests found me.”

Stoick just nodded slowly, encouraging. His gaze was steady, something dark in his eyes not aimed at either of them but turned inwards.

“They have four trials. The trial of earth, the trial of fire, the trial of water, the trial of air. My father begged for the trial of earth. They took me to Maruloet... to the Wildlands, over the gorge. If I was innocent, I would be taken back to Arendelle. But I had magic. I was guilty.

“They went back. A woman found me there, a wildling. She looked for those who had the trial of earth. She took me to a village, and I hid my magic, until I was eleven. Then people found out. I left. Since I was eleven, I am...” she glanced over at Hiccup again, just for a moment. “Alone.”

“You were the one taking food from the village?” said Stoick, after a moment. His voice was still level, not accusing, but Hiccup could almost feel how on-edge Elsa was as she nodded. “Why?”

“The rain in the summer made it more hard to find food,” she said. The cove had been better for that, though she had still said that she was almost sick of mushrooms. “I am sorry for taking the food, but I needed it.”

Stoick nodded. “And then you met Hiccup.”

A nervous laugh escaped Hiccup as Elsa looked over to him in clear expectation that he would be explaining this part. “You, ah, remember the night Gobber put me in the woodshed?” Again, Stoick just nodded. “The trollwort net worked. It’s this.” He reached over to indicate the bracelets that Elsa wore. “It stops the magic. But, when I hit Elsa with the net, she fell down one of the sinkholes. When I went to find the net, I found her as well.”

“Hmm. And you spoke Northur?” said Stoick, specifically to Elsa.

But she shook her head. “No. I spoke... _Marulosen_. The Wildlands-language. Hiccup taught me.”

“I’ve never met a wildling who could speak Northur before,” said Stoick frankly. He folded his hands on his knees, the scars on his knuckles pale in the firelight. “I’ve never heard this. You said that you come from Arendelle?”

Elsa nodded.

“Arendelle claims to know nothing of wildlings. Do you know how big an accusation this is?” he said, each word careful.

A frown crossed Elsa’s features, and she looked round to Hiccup again. “I do not understand,” she said quietly.

“He just wants to be sure you’re telling the truth,” Hiccup said.

Elsa’s gaze hardened slightly as she turned back to Stoick. “I do not lie.”

For a long moment, Stoick regarded her, then he put his hand to his mouth and sighed heavily. Hiccup could almost see the weight that settled on his shoulders, the heavy fur cloak that was far more than a cloak, that marked him as _chief_. He put his hand over Elsa’s for reassurance – whose, he wasn’t so sure about – until Toothless came up and shoved his head between the two of them with a rumble, almost toppling Hiccup sideways.

The door opened again and Gobber walked in, whistling and with a cloth-wrapped bundle. He stopped as he saw them sitting around the fireplace, and cleared his throat awkwardly. “Am I interrupting?”

“Chiefing stuff,” said Stoick.

“Ah,” said Gobber. He crossed to Hiccup, and put down the bundle beside him. “Right, well, this is for you. Well, for the dragon. Hopefully it’ll fit as it did last time.”

“Oh, Gobber, thanks,” Hiccup replied, grabbing at the bundle and pulling it onto his lap. It felt the same weight, although this time the wool was lighter and dark grey. Toothless sniffed at it from his other side. “Look at this, huh, bud? We’ll get you up in the air again soon.”

“Those trap lines we set up before the big fight need checking,” Gobber was saying. “I’ll grab a couple of folks and head out.”

“Good idea,” said Stoick. “Elsa, did you want to go with them?”

All right, that was starting to sound a little ominous. Gobber was one of the people who had been escorting Elsa whenever she was outside the house, and Hiccup supposed that he had also joined that number when he had gone out to shout at the people threatening Stormfly with axes. He still wasn’t sure how much of that his father had heard.

Whatever Elsa made of Stoick’s suggestion, she nodded and got to her feet. “You’re welcome. No,” she caught herself. “Thank you.”

Hiccup waited for her to pass and leave, Gobber closing the door behind them, then picked up his crutches and tried to figure out the best way to get to his feet from what suddenly felt like quite a low bench. “All right, Dad, I’ll leave you to it. Do you think someone could bring Toothless’s tail up later?” He nodded to the tail beside him.

“No, Hiccup, stay,” said Stoick, taking him by surprise. “Like I said, this is chiefing.”

He wasn’t sure at what point losing part of his leg had actually qualified him for this sort of thing, but perhaps he was just considered more of a _Viking_ now. Or perhaps – though he wasn’t sure that he wanted to consider this alternative too much – even his father realised that Hiccup knew something about dragons, and wildlings, that nobody else had seen. Running a hand over Toothless’s head, he waited for Stoick to continue.

“If what she says is true, then you know what this means for our peace with Arendelle.”

A treaty signed every three years; Hiccup had even been there for the last couple of signings, with his father sitting opposite the King and Queen of Arendelle in their great castle. Of course, it would be the Queen Apparent doing the signing next, in the coming summer. But part of the treaty had always been that both sides would stand firm against the wildlings at the centre of the island, the menace that they both in theory shared even if Arendelle had the gorge and the mountains to protect it from most wildling incursion.

“I really think that she’s telling the truth, Dad,” said Hiccup, defence springing to his lips.

He did not expect Stoick to nod firmly. “I do as well. It’s the same as she told Spitelout, and I see no reason she’d have to lie, no reason for her to talk against Arendelle. She spoke not a word of Northur when you found her?”

“No,” said Hiccup, feeling his cheeks grow hot again. “I was just trying to tell her my name, at first. But she’s a fast learner.”

“Aye, Gobber’s said the same. Say a new word once, and she’ll remember it. This language of hers... what did she call the Wildlands? _Marulen_?”

“ _Marulosen_ was the language, I think. The place was _Maruloet_.”

Stoick’s frown deepened. “In Arendelle, they call them _Maalurose_. More different than our Northur is from the Berserkers’, certainly, but not all that far. And closer than Arendellen is to Coronan.”

This wasn’t the sort of conversation to be having in the middle of the day, Hiccup found himself thinking. It should be a dark, thundery night, with lightning striking the mountain tops and everyone huddling inside from the rain. Instead, there was sunlight around the edge of the door, and it was actually pleasantly warm for a change. One last good spell before autumn really got a hold on them. “You think that the Wildlings’ language comes from Arendellen.”

“Oh, I do. And I think that the wildlings, or at least a good number of them, come from there as well. Have done for a long time, most likely. The question is what we do with that information.”

It changed things. Perhaps as much as the dragons had, but perhaps more, because that had been finding what they hadn’t known before rather than coming across an outright lie. “You aren’t thinking of fighting Arendelle over it, are you?”

“No,” said Stoick, immediately. Hiccup felt a rush of relief. “We don’t know enough to justify something like that. She said that it was the Silver Priests who sent her into the Wildlands, but we know that the Silver Priests are advisors to the crown.”

“You don’t think that the King and Queen would do something like this? Elsa was only a child!” He couldn’t help the horror in his voice, the thought of leaving a child in the Wildlands to, frankly, die. It was said that not all that long ago, there had been a Viking tradition of leaving newborns to die if they seemed unlikely to live for long. Some islands still followed such rules. But with so many people on Berk lost to dragons and to battles it seemed unfair to not give a child a chance at living. Hiccup was particularly grateful for the change. “By Thor, didn’t they lose their own daughter?”

“A kidnapping, yes,” said Stoick. “And they would know the pain of losing a child. But if the Silver Priests... if their hold on Arendelle is stronger than we thought...”

He didn’t need to finish the sentence. If the Silver Priests were the ones in power, not the King or Queen... well, Berk had been making its deals with the wrong people for the last century and more. “Do you really think they could do that? Keep it a secret for so long?”

“Arendelle is an isolated place. Their last King and Queen hardly left, nor had other powers visit, and the one before was hardly any better to hear my father tell it. Even in the times of the Hamishes, they weren’t friendly folk. We visit them once every three years, and that only for a few days. If they wanted enough to keep it a secret, yes, I think they could.”

The words weighed heavily in the air between them. Hiccup had never thought of helping Elsa as some sort of political act, just that she had needed helping, but it started to sink in now that it was something far more. In much the same way that not killing a dragon had been. “How is the village handling the dragons?”

Stoick shook his head. “Some of them haven’t had time to think on it yet. The funeral boats have sailed, though Odin knows some of them weren’t much more than rafts by the time we were done. But people are still mourning. There were losses to that fight, as there have been before.”

“But they’re going to stop now,” said Hiccup, earnestly. His hand, resting on Toothless’s head, slid round so that he drew the Night Fury closer to him. Toothless complied with a huff until his jaw was pressed against Hiccup’s thigh. “We got rid of it. The dragons won’t need to fight us any more.”

“There’s still hundreds of dragons out there that know to fight us, Hiccup,” his father said. “The other tribes will still be fighting any that come near, and there are people here whose first instinct will be to grab a weapon when they see a dragon near.”

“Then I’ll change their minds,” said Hiccup. He had seen it with Astrid, when they flew; with Fishlegs, as he watched the Gronckle hatchlings rolling around. Once people _looked_ , once they saw the dragon and not just the fire, things would change. They had to. His arms threatened to tangle in his crutches as he tried to get to his feet again. “I will make them see, in the Shivering Shores or Arendelle or – damn it!”

His leg and arms between them refused to cooperate, or perhaps it was the blurring around the edges of his vision that stopped him from being able to get defiantly to his feet as he wanted. Hiccup slammed down his crutches onto the bench in frustration, making Toothless jump away, and had to close his eyes just for a moment.

A hand came to rest on his shoulder, and when he looked up his father was kneeling beside him. “How about we start with Berk, before you make plans for the rest of the world?”


	13. Chapter 13

Hiccup wasn’t quite sure what it said about the last few days that just having crutches felt like the best freedom he had ever been given. True, it made catching Toothless that much harder, which was how he had managed to gather a small audience despite making his way to the clear ground outside the village, but at least he had been able to get there in the first place.

“You could help,” he said pointedly to Elsa and Astrid, who were standing not far away. Elsa was at least keeping a straight face, while Astrid didn’t even both trying to hide her amusement.

“You’ve got this under control, dragon master,” replied Astrid.

“Dragon what?” Hiccup spluttered, then waved a warning finger at Elsa. “You do not call me that. I don’t call me that. Who’s been calling me that?”

Astrid shrugged. “Various people. Some of them quite loudly.”

“Great,” said Hiccup. He made another grab for Toothless’s tail, but the dragon whipped it out of the way just before his hand connected. As soon as Hiccup drew his hand back, the tail slipped back into reach. Hiccup narrowed his eyes. “Really? We’re doing this again.”

“Mister Hiccup,” said one of the children watching. Hiccup turned to see that it was Rainbug, stuffed lamb in its usual place in her arms. “Does the dragon do what you tell him?”

“When he feels like it,” said Hiccup, making one last lunge for Toothless’s tail and ending up on hands and knee with Toothless grinning at him from a few feet away. “So not right now, no.”

He looked at Astrid and Elsa again until, with a chuckle, Elsa relented and walked round to Toothless’s head. She placed one fingertip against his nose and he fell still, looking at her wide-eyed while his tail finally stopped flicking back and forth and came to a rest right in front of where Hiccup was sitting.

“Thank you,” he breathed.

The adults were pretending that they weren’t fascinated by having dragons in the village, but the children didn’t even bother pretending. Piglegs was there, and Gustav, as well as Rainbug and Nobber and even Snugbag hiding behind them. And no doubt they would pass on what they saw to the other children as well. Hiccup felt very aware of their eyes on him as he strapped on Toothless’s new tail and attached it to the connecting rod, tweaking it slightly to make sure that it flared.

Toothless bounded in place, looked round excitedly, and tried to leap after his own tail. Laughter spread among the children as he started to run in circles, knocking Hiccup out of the way with his wing on the way past. Grinning, Hiccup folded his arms and waited until Toothless skidded to a halt, almost rolling onto his side before catching himself and looking at Hiccup with what could only be described as a huge grin.

“Are you done?”

“Does he have a name?” said Piglegs. “Meatlug’s got a name.”

“Sure he does,” said Hiccup. “He’s called Toothless. Would you like to say hello?”

He gestured for Toothless to come over, and the Night Fury obliged, turning round and nuzzling against Hiccup’s shoulder with a deep rumble. The children giggled again, a little more nervously, but Hiccup gestured for Piglegs to come over.

She shared a glance with the others, apparently decided that greeting a Night Fury would make her cooler than the rest of her friends, and stepped forwards. Hiccup held out one hand for hers, and then pulled her hand up so that her palm was towards Toothless, slightly curved and not too hard a line. The girl looked up at Elsa, then away again quickly. Berk’s adults might have been unsure about Toothless, but nobody was quite sure about Elsa.

“All right,” Hiccup continued. “Now turn your eyes away. It’s all right, he won’t hurt you. It’s to show that you trust him.”

Piglegs’s eyes flickered from Toothless to the ground a couple of times, then finally she screwed her eyes tightly closed instead, holding her breath. Toothless examined her hand, huffed, then reached over and touched his nose to her palm.

With a squeal, Piglegs ran back to her friends, who were also shrieking with delight. Toothless looked round to Hiccup as if to ask what the fuss was about, and Hiccup just chuckled and leant his shoulder against Toothless’s for a minute.

“You see? You have to be careful around dragons, but if you treat them nicely, then they’ll be nice back.” Nice didn’t do justice to what Toothless had become to him, but it was a start. Hiccup slung his left arm over Toothless’s shoulder and used him as leverage to get back to his feet once again, scooping his crutches up along the way. “There you go, bud, that feels better, doesn’t it?”

Toothless lolloped away again, lashing his tail back and forth and letting his tongue loll out of the corner of his mouth as he loped in a large circle around the grassy area, then turned and looked at Hiccup expectantly. Hiccup looked back. Grumbling, Toothless leapt back over and butted his side against Hiccup, right by where his saddle was strapped on. They weren’t able to put on his tail and connecting rod without putting on everything else as well, and they had needed to check Gobber’s work.

“What?” said Hiccup. “Are you saying it feels funny? Look, I know, it’s new, but it’s my design, I promise.”

Snorting, Toothless rocked onto his back legs and thumped his forepaws against the ground, twice in quick succession. Then he bumped Hiccup with his saddle again, and realisation dawned.

Hiccup sighed. “Sorry, bud, I can’t work your tail right now. Might be a while, really.” He pressed his lips together firmly, glancing down at his left leg. They could still run around on land, but the air was denied to them. For now, at least. An idea sparked, though, and he gave Astrid a wicked grin. “Hey, Astrid, come on over.”

“What is it?” she said warily, but did so. Only when Hiccup nodded to the saddle did she stop in her tracks. “You’re joking.”

“Nope. Someone else should know how to ride Toothless while I can’t, and you did well with Stormfly.”

“That was different.” Astrid risked a glance at their audience, then crossed closer to Hiccup and lowered her voice so that they were less likely to hear. “Stormfly did the flying, I just held on. I don’t know how to control Toothless’s tail.”

“That’s why I’m going to teach you,” he said cheerily. “Think of it this way – you just have to follow what I say. At least you don’t have to find it out for yourself.”

“Hiccup did,” put in Elsa helpfully. “They fell in the lake a lot.”

All right, maybe not so helpfully. Astrid looked at the children again; they were watching with looks of awe and excitement, even Rainbug peeking over Lamby’s head. “Fine,” she said finally. She swung herself into the saddle, then clutched at it as Toothless hopped happily in place. “If I fall off, I’m blaming you.”

“Yeah, if we fall off my Dad will probably blame me as well,” said Hiccup. He was on the wrong side of Toothless to mount up, so made his way around and slid into place behind Astrid, handing his crutches to Elsa as he did so. There were some more giggles from the watching children. “All right, there are six settings for the tail, but you only really need to worry about three of them for a basic flight. No climbing too high today, all right, bud?” He patted Toothless’s side. “Right. Foot into the stirrup.”

Astrid’s boots were a little bulkier than his, but her foot fit into the stirrup well enough. And, thought Hiccup dryly, at least there was plenty of room for her to manoeuvre her foot on that side without his getting in the way. “Got it,” she said.

“Then to take off, push back with your heel to the first position. You’ll feel it click. Once we’re in the air, you’ll need to go to the third position, which is two more. You ready?”

“As I’ll ever be,” said Astrid. She took hold of the front of the saddle, and after a moment’s hesitation Hiccup looped his arms around her waist. Gustav wolf-whistled, and probably regretted it when Astrid glared at him. “So just... push back?”

“Yup.”

Elsa stepped smartly back out of the way again as Toothless spread his wings, padding backwards himself into an area of clearer ground. As his wings reached their full span, great black sheets beside them, Hiccup saw Gustav’s eyes go wide, and he was pretty sure that Snugbag mouthed, ‘I want one’.

He felt the twitch of Astrid’s leg, heard the click of the tail opening, and then felt Toothless spring upwards into the air with a great sweep of his wings. The air hit him, feeling like it was opening up his lungs, as they climbed sharply upwards. Looking back over his shoulder, Hiccup could see the children pointing after him, and as they got higher he could see some of the adults in the village staring as well. He considered waving, but decided against it.

“All right,” he shouted over the wind, “we’re high enough! Go to position three!”

This time he could not hear the snap of the fin, but he could still feel Astrid’s shift as she leant slightly into the side to move her foot. Following her, Toothless banked to the left, and she shouted with surprise.

“You leant left,” Hiccup shouted, making Astrid turn to look at him dubiously. “He can feel it. Try to just use your foot.”

“There are so many things I could say to that,” said Astrid.

From some people, it might have been insulting, but he knew that Astrid did not think of his missing foot like that. Hiccup just laughed. As they levelled out, he settled back slightly in the saddle, releasing his hold on her waist. “There we go,” he said. “In the air.”

“It’s not all that easy.” It didn’t need to be a question.

“No, but it lets him stretch his wings. And this is his first time in the air since the Red Death. Probably better to let you up gently, huh bud?” He went to reach forwards for a scratch, but would have hit Astrid’s thigh and caught himself just in time to shift his hand backwards again. Toothless rumbled, the sound soft on the air but running through him as well. “It’s good to fly,” Hiccup added, more quietly.

“It’s something else,” said Astrid. He hadn’t expected her to hear, and was glad that he was behind her where she could not see that he was blushing.

“Do you and Stormfly go flying still?”

Astrid shook her head. “She flies occasionally, never too far, but mostly she’s stayed in the woodshed. I think she just likes being out of those pens.”

“Yeah, that can’t have been too fun,” said Hiccup. Astrid fell silent, but this time he recognised it, from when she had said before that she would not be able to fight the Monstrous Nightmare. “It’s not your fault, Astrid. The dragons that you fought. You all thought that you were doing the right thing.”

“Doesn’t mean we weren’t being muttonheads about it,” she said dryly.

Hiccup almost laughed, though he probably wasn’t supposed to. He spread his arms, feeling the wind curl around them, and if he closed his eyes then just for a few seconds he could imagine that he was the one doing the flying, the one with the connection to Toothless’s tail that made them act like one creature in the air. The wind plucked at his hair, buffeted against his cheeks, but the air always felt so much clearer up here than it did on the ground.

“Uh, Hiccup?” said Astrid. “I think we’ve got a problem.”

His eyes snapped open again, and he followed her pointing finger down to the clearing from which they had taken off. The children had left, but Elsa was still there – with a large, helmeted figure in front of her, axe in hand. “Oh, Thor,” said Hiccup. “All right, time to learn to land. Position four. One more click back. And before–”

Astrid was already moving. She shifted her weight to bank Toothless back around, and closed down the tail at the same time. Toothless half pulled in his wings as they dropped into a dive, the air screaming past them and Hiccup clutching at Astrid’s waist to avoid being whipped away.

“Position two!” he shouted over the wind, as close to Astrid’s ear as he could get. “Push forwards again, to position two!”

For one terrible moment, he thought that she had not heard, the rooves of houses rushing up towards them as Toothless stretched his wings again and they billowed with the strain of trying to slow them. Then he felt the drag of the tail again, and their path smoothed out to a slower descent, letting them circle down and land on the ground right in front of Elsa.

Hiccup took one look at the man opposite them, and his eyes narrowed. “Bloodbeard!” he snapped. His crutches were abandoned on the ground, and he stayed on Toothless’s back even as Astrid slid off. “What in Odin’s name do you think you’re doing?”

“You be careful, boy,” Bloodbeard snapped. “It’s dragons the like of yours got my son killed, and wildlings the like of that one that cost my daughter her hand. Now step aside, and let me deal with this the Viking way.”

He hefted the axe in his hand and looked calculatingly at Elsa, who had her hands raised towards him. “Please,” she said. “Please, let me go. I will–”

“You will not have to do anything,” said Hiccup firmly. Astrid had reached his crutches, but instead of returning them to him she was holding one almost like a stave. She had come without weapons, the better to not risk upsetting Toothless. “Bloodbeard, stand down. I’ve told you before how this will be settled.”

“With you seeing how many soft hearts you can turn, to keep them free?” The man gestured to Toothless with the axe now, and Hiccup felt the lurch as Toothless tried to hunker down and arch his back. It wasn’t so easy with the saddle. “You weren’t even there to see my son’s ship sail.”

“No,” spat Astrid, “he was unconscious from saving your life and mine, on Dragon Island. Or did you not notice that?

“I’m sorry about your son, Bloodbeard,” said Hiccup, before Astrid could get any angrier. “Bloodsocks was a good man. But we can’t bring him back. What we can do is stop more people from dying, and the best way to do that is by making peace with the dragons. Stop the fighting, and more people won’t have to die.”

He scowled, and jerked his chin towards Elsa. Well, Hiccup supposed it was better than gesturing with the axe. “And what of that?”

He wanted to reply that he wasn’t surprised that anybody fought back when a load of Vikings ran at them waving axes about, but that observation wouldn’t exactly be helpful right now. “Elsa isn’t from one of the wildling groups,” he said. “She’s...” he groped for a word, a comparison. To call her an _outcast_ risked raising spectres of Alvin and his men, a nasty bunch that were a whole different league. “She’s like an orphan,” he said finally. He hadn’t used that word in front of Elsa before, would probably have to explain it later. But all of Berk had a soft spot in their hearts for orphans, knew too many of them to not have sympathy. “She doesn’t have anyone else. And she’s never hurt us.”

Most people wouldn’t know that Elsa had been sneaking into their village even to steal, he fervently hoped. Astrid recognised the bright hair, but with any luck most people would not, or would not realise that it meant Elsa was the same one. She had never used her magic in the village.

“She’s got magic,” said Bloodbeard.

“And you’ve got an axe,” Hiccup replied. “It doesn’t mean you have to use it.”

“I’ll get Stoick,” said Astrid, her gaze steely. “Maybe you can explain to _him_ what you’re doing threatening someone under his protection.”

“The council is in four days. Bring it up then,” said Hiccup again. He was going to have to warn his father about this, though Stoick was probably more than aware of what was going on in the village.

Bloodbeard looked between the two of them, breathing heavily, then whirled with a roar and threw his axe against the nearest tree. It slammed into it, and Hiccup saw people in the distance looking round to see what the noise was. Some of them were running off, which probably meant that he had only the briefest of times until his father was informed and came to find out what was going on. He could really do with his crutches right now, to be able to do something other than sit on Toothless.

“You,” snarled Bloodbeard, rounding on them. “You stupid _boy_. You have no idea what the world is like, do you? Dragons don’t care how you treat them, they’re killers inside. And that–” he pointed at Elsa “–is as likely to slit your throat while you sleep as anything else. Will riding that dragon give you back your leg? They’ve taken and taken, and you just want to forgive them–”

“Bloodbeard,” said Hiccup, trying to be stern but apparently falling short.

“What good will it do forgiving them? They won’t care.” Spittle was flying from his mouth, and Hiccup couldn’t help noticing that Bloodbeard still had a knife at his waist. “And the next time they get the chance–”

“ _Bloodbeard!_ ”

Stoick, on the other hand, was far better at shouting sternly enough to get people’s attention. He marched from around the Great Hall, anger radiating off every line, and right over to the man. Bloodbeard was no runt, but Stoick was several inches taller and probably several inches wider as well, and Bloodbeard backed down a step as the chief advanced on him.

“Bloodbeard Olofson, you are a fool for thinking I’d not hear of this and worse for threatening my son,” growled Stoick. Technically, Hiccup hadn’t been the one being threatened with the axe, but to judge by the way that Bloodbeard’s face had just paled he was not about to point that out. “Now get out of my sight.”

Bloodbeard left, and Hiccup was about ready to sigh with relief when he saw that the fury had not left Stoick’s face. Instead he stalked over, grabbed the crutch that Astrid was holding and the other one off the ground, and crossed to Hiccup with a face that could call down thunderclouds.

“Great Hall,” he growled. “Now.”

“Dad–”

“ _Now,_ Hiccup.”

He had a strong suspicion that the only reason it was the Great Hall was that they were right beside it, and as chief Stoick could tell everyone to clear out. Hiccup slid back out of the saddle, his thighs sore, and flexed the toes of his right foot to get the blood flowing again. He started to walk, Toothless falling in behind him, but Stoick stepped in the dragon’s way.

“Not you. Astrid, take them both back to the house. Gobber should be there.”

Hiccup leant over to pat Toothless on the head. “Go on, bud,” he said softly, then got himself back upright and continued on to the Great Hall. He could hear his father’s footsteps behind him and feel him almost looming up behind, and it was all that he could do not to cringe in anticipation of whatever he had done now.

The thing was that this time, he didn’t _know_. He had stood up for Stormfly and then stood up for Elsa, and surely that had to be the right thing to have been doing. Hiccup gritted his teeth as he made his way through the open doors of the hall, and let his eyes adjust to the firelight inside compared to the sunlight outside. Ruffnut, Tuffnut, Fishlegs and Snotlout were sitting at the table, the Gronckle hatchlings capering between them and flying in unsteady two-second bursts.

“Right,” said Stoick, entering behind. He pushed the door wider open. “You lot, out.”

The four teens looked round, and there was a moment when Hiccup thought that Snotlout might say something, then the defiance in his eyes went. “Yes, chief.” Fishlegs was hastily gathering the hatchlings to him, while the twins groaned and rolled their eyes but obeyed. As they did so, Meatlug stood up, emerging from where she had lain down behind the table, with a huge yawn that showed off her teeth just a little too much.

Hiccup stood to the side while they passed, each of them meeting his eyes for a fraction of a second before looking away again. Probably from embarrassment. It seemed to take forever before they were finally gone, and Stoick pulled the doors to the Great Hall closed with a huge bang. The hall darkened, and Hiccup had to blink a few times before the multi-coloured after-images faded from his eyes.

“Dad,” he started, cautiously, but his father did not turn round from the door.

“No, Hiccup. Enough. You have to stop doing this.”

“Stop doing what?” Hiccup hadn’t realised how much he usually gestured with his hands until they were involved in keeping him upright. “Protecting Elsa? Or Toothless? Or the other dragons? I’m not going to stop doing what’s right.”

Stoick banged his fist against the door hard enough to make Hiccup jump. “Putting yourself in danger. You have to stop putting yourself in danger, for Odin’s sake.”

He didn’t have a response for that.

“I know you want to help, Hiccup,” continued Stoick, turning around at last, “but you aren’t going to do that by putting yourself in harm’s way. I had to break up two fights today. One was between the Stenberg twins, over who got their father’s axe. The other was in the smithy.” He paused, just long enough to let it sink in. “Dogsbreath took his brother’s side in an argument, and Gobber nearly took an axe to him. That’s why he’s at home right now.”

Hiccup winced. Mudbreath had been one of the men ready to attack Stormfly, yes, but he hadn’t realised that it would extend as far as the forge. “Well, so much for thinking they could work together like adults.”

“And that,” said Stoick, “does not help either. “It does not matter if you think a man is a fool, you cannot just say as much to his face. Telling people that their families died for no reason is bad enough, but–”

“I never said that!”

Stoick waved towards the door. “You’re telling anyone who will listen not just that we do not need to fight the dragons, but that we never needed to fight them at all.” The words made Hiccup’s protests die on his lips. “You walk up to people and say that people never needed to have died. You tell me that your mother never–”

Hiccup tried to say something then, but it came out strangled and caught painfully in his chest. Even Stoick couldn’t finish the sentence, just shook his head and turned his eyes again.

“Do you _understand_ , Hiccup?”

“That’s not what I’m saying,” he said again, more desperately. “It was the Red Death making them do it, even Toothless.”

“And if we’d killed the Red Death earlier?”

“That’s not fair. You can’t start asking me questions like that.”

“Those are the sort of questions they will ask. In here, at the council, in only a few days' time now, and you must be ready to answer them. You can’t just tell people that it’s not fair.”

It didn’t change the fact that it wasn’t. Hiccup slammed the butt of one crutch against the ground in frustration and gritted his teeth before managing an answer. “It was exceptional circumstances that let us find out what was going on. And if you had listened to me–”

“When, Hiccup? When you got shot out of the sky with a dragon? It was a little late by then!”

“Late?” Hiccup spluttered. “And when else was I going to say something? What would you have even done?” He jabbed one crutch in the direction of the doorway himself, though he was aiming ultimately to the cove beyond. “If I’d told you about Toothless, would you even have listened, or would you have just rounded up your men to kill him?”

“I–”

He barely paused for breath. “After all, the only reason you _didn’t_ kill him was because you realised he could take you to Dragon Island. Is he still just a tool to you? Because he’s not. He’s not just an animal, even. They are thinking creatures, Dad, they–”

“And don’t speak to me like I’m the fool, either!” snapped Stoick. “No, they’re not just animals. ‘Just animals’ don’t breathe fire, Hiccup, haven’t killed hundreds of men over the years.”

“Only because–”

“Do you think that sheep or boars _could_ kill so many, even if they had reason to? People are right to fear them.”

Hiccup snorted. Certainly, there had been that pang of fear right at the beginning, but that was before he had _known_ Toothless. “Men kill. Do you fear every man you meet?”

“You have no concept of fear, Hiccup. You...” Stoick put a hand to his brow, closing his eyes for a moment. “Fear is not a bad thing, Hiccup. People might call it caution or prudence or wisdom, but it’s fear that makes them step away from the edge of a cliff. And sometimes I would swear that you don’t know what it is.”

“If you’re sure of your footing, you don’t need to fear falling,” said Hiccup. That was how it felt, with Toothless, like he had a more secure footing than he had ever felt before. Of course, he was aware of the ridiculousness of using such terms of phrase at the moment, but it didn’t make it any less apt. He felt less likely to fall. “Dad, listen, I know that people are afraid of dragons because of what they’ve done, but they shouldn’t be afraid because of what they _could_ do. We just need to shape what they _will_ –”

“No, son. One dragon is enough for the village – as many as we have is more than enough. You can’t keep pushing this.”

“Why not? When have Vikings worried about the edges of the map?” It seemed so ridiculous. It had been less than three turns of the moon since he had met Toothless, and in that time so much had changed. How much more could they learn, with more people and dragons and time? And that was not even touching on what Elsa had told them, about Arendelle and wildlings and magic. “There’s so much–”

“Gods damn it, I’m trying to protect you!” Stoick thundered, slamming his hand down on the table so heavily that it echoed through the hall. “You don’t have the sense to protect yourself, and you don’t have the trust in me to let me do it.”

It was a fine thing to talk of trust. “Yes,” said Hiccup. “Because you’ve trusted me with so much. You know, perhaps if you stopped treating me so much like a child then I might actually be able to talk to you without waiting to be picked up by the scruff of my neck and carried around like an ill-behaved kitten.”

“Perhaps if you stopped acting like one, running around with strangers and dangerous animals, then I might be able to trust you,” said Stoick.

They’re no stranger than the twins and no more dangerous than Astrid, Hiccup was about ready to say, but he tried to take a step forwards and his crutches slid completely out from under him and his balance went. Once again, there was a moment of pure terror as he found himself in the air, foot sliding away, but this time there was no-one to catch him before he hid the stone floor, right shoulder first, with a jarring thud. He wasn’t even sure whether he cried out with the pain that lanced through his shoulder, his hip and, worse, down his left leg. For a moment he was sure that it was whole again, the pain going right down to his toes, then as he gathered himself and pushed back into a sitting position he was struck again that no, it was not.

“Hiccup!” The anger evaporated from Stoick as he went to kneel down, reaching out. Behind him, the door was thrown open again and Toothless came bounding and shrieking down the room, knocking aside a table in his haste to get there.

Hiccup tried to wave them both away, but his eyes were playing tricks with depths again and he ended up slapping aside his father’s outstretched arm. A pained look flickered across Stoick’s face.

It took a moment for the fire in his left leg to retreat, like it was remembering that it had been amputated at all, and Hiccup sat breathing heavily. Toothless tried to lean across and rub against him, but Hiccup could not think clearly enough to know whether that was a good idea in front of his father. “Back off, Toothless,” he said.

“Astrid,” shouted Stoick over his shoulder, and the volume of it made Hiccup wince again. “Get Gothi!”

“I’m _fine_ ,” he said, though it didn’t help that the words slurred a little. Hiccup swallowed, and tried again. “I’m fine.” That one came out much more clearly. He made a grab for the nearer of his crutches, and missed by a good few inches. “Just let me get up and I’ll go home.”

Elsa appeared over Stoick’s shoulder, which more logically meant that she had come in after Toothless had, and Astrid had gone wherever she had been sent. To Gothi. Astrid had been sent to get Gothi. It would really have helped matters if he could concentrate long enough to think in full sentences. This time Hiccup managed to get hold of one crutch, and was about to use it to hook the other one closer when Stoick pulled it out of his hand.

“Hey!”

“Hiccup...” said his father gruffly.

It wasn’t as if it was the first time he had fallen over in recent history. There hadn’t even been any dragons involved this time. “Dad, I’m sorry, I–”

Elsa fell to her knees next to him, and he was about to tell her to be careful on her leg, when he caught sight of his own left knee and the spreading stain of blood across his leggings.

“I didn’t notice that,” he mumbled. Elsa went to touch his leg, hesitated, then Stoick reached across and put one hand under Hiccup’s knee to raise his leg. He quickly undid the pin that shortened the leggings, then gently pushed up the fabric to reveal that the bandages beneath were fast being stained red. “Oh gods, maybe you’re right. Can’t even have an argument without getting myself hurt.”

The thought made him laugh, an edge of hysteria to it, and Toothless rubbed against his back either worriedly or reassuringly. It was a little bit hard to read a dragon when apparently he couldn’t even read his own leg.

Stoick went to press one hand to the wound, to staunch the bleeding, but Hiccup grunted with pain and pulled away. His father’s hand came away stained red. “It’s bleeding badly.”

“I can...” Elsa looked to Stoick, then across to Hiccup, and it took him a moment to understand as her fingers closed around the trollwort on her wrist.

“Like for Toothless. Yes.”

She pulled off the bracelets and threw them aside, sending them skidding across the floor under one of the tables. A sharp cold smell filled the air around them, and Toothless huffed into Hiccup’s ear, but Elsa carefully wrapped one hand to the underside of Hiccup’s bandages and looked round. “Sir,” she said quietly. He wondered who had taught her that. “Sir, please.”

“Dad, you need to let go of my leg,” said Hiccup. His throat felt strangely dry, and the world was tilting a little bit more than could be explained just by his being off-balance. Stoick glanced up and for one moment there was raw fear in his eyes, enough to shock Hiccup to the core, then it was shielded again and he let go. Elsa’s hand slid behind Hiccup’s knee instead, her fingers almost painfully cold against his skin.

At first, he did not even feel it, just saw the blood on the bandages freeze bright red and white, but then the cold reached his skin and he hissed through his teeth. It was not quite pain, though, not compared to what it had felt like when he hit the ground, and after only a few second Elsa pulled her hands away again and lowered his leg to the floor. This time, she did not reach immediately for the trollwort.

“You see,” he started to say to his father. “This is – Whoa.” One hand slipped, and he probably would have hit the floor all over again were it not for Toothless curled right behind him. After that, Hiccup gave up on arguing, and let himself be lowered back down to the floor where he couldn’t injure himself again.


	14. Chapter 14

If the first stint abed had been bad, the one following his fall was outright excruciating. He had been out in the world again, and being bundled back into the house was enough to drive him to absolute distraction. Only his agreement with his father kept Hiccup in his bed – that if he stayed there for the remaining days, he would be allowed to join them at the village meeting.

Of course, Hiccup suspected that he would be allowed to the meeting whatever happened, as the clearest voice on behalf of both the dragons and Elsa, but that if he tried to get out of bed before then it would involve being carried. Which would not exactly make him look like the best person to be speaking up. Better to walk in on crutches than be carried like a child.

By the time that the new moon rolled around, he had talked Astrid into finding his crutches for him, and was waiting at the front door when his father came to collect him. Stoick looked him up and down, sighed, but nodded. “Very well. Come along, then.”

There had been a time when these village meetings had been held every moon, without fail. But there had been more people on Berk then, before the attacks from the dragons became really bad and people had fled or been killed in larger numbers. Nowadays, it was more likely that there were two or three a year, and perhaps the same number of shouting matches that just grew to include everyone and became a sort of particularly loud, argumentative village meeting anyway. There was nothing quite like watching an argument over a barrel of apples turn into a village-wide fight over food stores.

The meeting was supposed to start an hour after sunset, but there were already a few early arrivals. Astrid stood defiantly close to the low stone dais where Stoick and Hiccup would be standing, her parents a few feet away talking to a couple of the fishermen. Tables and benches still stood around the edge of the hall, and Ruffnut was sitting on one of them as Snotlout leant against a pillar next to her, rolling his eyes.

Frowning, Hiccup made his way over to them, letting his father go on ahead for now. “Hey, you guys,” he said. They turned, Snotlout giving him a cautious nod. It seemed that he and the twins were torn between being impressed with what Hiccup had done and disappointed that it didn’t involve much killing. “Where’s Tuffnut?”

“Watching the dragons,” said Ruffnut. “I told him that he’d know everything I heard, because of our psychic link.”

“Your... wait, what?”

“Psychic link.” Ruffnut grinned. “Because we’re twins. He totally bought it. Don’t worry, I can shout loud enough for two.”

Hiccup had been hoping that this meeting wasn’t going to disintegrate into shouting again, but even he had to admit there was a pretty high chance of that. “All of the dragons?”

“Well, probably not the babies,” said Snotlout. “As if Fishlegs would let them out of his sight. It’s not like we’re from the Barbarous Isle or anything.”

Hiccup looked at him warily. “What did Johann tell you this time?” Johann’s last visit had been in autumn, and he would not make it to Berk again until spring, but he always seemed to have more than three moons’ worth of strange stories to tell.

“He was telling us about how they eat roast Gronckle there. Like, the babies especially are a delicacy,” said Ruffnut. “They take a stick and–”

“Whoa, whoa, thank you,” said Hiccup, holding up one hand to ward off where he suspected the sentence was heading. “I get the picture.” All too graphically, and he wasn’t sure whether to be more disgusted or angry at the idea of it.

“Say, is Elsa going to be here again this evening?” said Snotlout.

Hiccup gave him a questioning look. It was not like Snotlout to actually put effort into learning someone’s name, nor to start examining his nails as if he was actually considering cleaning under them. A moment passed, and then Hiccup finally gave in. “Why?”

“Oh, no reason,” said Snotlout

Ruffnut rolled her eyes. “He thinks she’s hot.”

“I do not!” Snotlout protested, and Hiccup wished that he could still put his hands over his ears because somehow in less than a minute the two of them had given him not one but two hugely unwelcome images. His impressions of Elsa were of the first time he had met her, scared and injured; of her wolfing down stolen bread and learning words lightning-fast just so that she could talk to him; of evenings sitting beside her in the cove, in front of the fire, while he tried to even out his hair with his knife so that it looked less like a Terrible Terror had singed it.

“I’m going,” he said flatly.

He had not even managed to turn round when Snotlout continued “–I don’t _think_ she’s hot, she is hot! Hiccup, you should have seen on the island. Her armour vanished,” Snotlout was talking almost reverently, and Hiccup made the mistake of looking to see that Snotlout’s hands were cupped dangerously close to chest height, “and she was _naked_ , and–”

“Snotlout, stop it!”

“I mean, you’re in bed anyway, if I was in bed that much I’d be starting to ch–”

“Snotlout!” he snapped, and this time Snotlout actually fell quiet, to Hiccup’s overwhelming relief. “I really am going now.”

Before either Snotlout or, worse, Ruffnut could say anything, Hiccup turned and made his way over to beside his father. Gobber and some of the other men had been out hunting again, and Elsa tended to go out with them to gather food. She always seemed to come back with an absurd amount, and this time it had been mallow and some stash of sweet chestnuts previously missed by Vikings and boar alike. Nobody had the faintest clue how she had managed it, and Gobber had intimated that her ability to find food was, if nothing else, making her seem more normal to folk. It was hard to seem too strange when you had to eat like anyone else.

More people were starting to filter in by then. Traditionally, everyone in the village over the age of twelve had the right to attend these meetings, though a few would always take turns to mind the children that Hiccup could hear running around and shrieking with laughter on the green area outside. Of recent years, they had not been so busy, but to judge from the number of people who had already arrived Hiccup suspected that the village would be out in force tonight.

He wasn’t sure whether he was more nervous or excited. Although theoretically welcome, he had always stood beside Gobber in the past, away from his father and any of the other important figures of the village. Not this time around.

As more people filled in, it became harder to see everyone. The step up might have been enough for his father to see, but Hiccup still found himself looking at a lot of shoulders. Someone went to step in front of Astrid, but she glared at them until they thought better of it and took up position behind her again. Hiccup’s hands began to sweat, and he tried to wipe them on his shirt without dropping his crutches in the process. It was a lot harder than it had any right to be.

“Are you sure that you don’t want a chair?” said Stoick. Not for the first time since he had said that Hiccup could come to the meeting.

“I’m fine, Dad, seriously,” he replied. It was going to be embarrassing enough to be in front of everyone on crutches... well, if truth be told, it was going to be embarrassing enough to be in front of everyone being _him_ , but the crutches were not helping matters. A chair would be even worse. “Thank you.”

Stoick nodded, still frowning, and turned to exchange quiet words with Spitelout on his other side. Hiccup could only catch snatches of what they said.

“...quite attached to the lizard...” Spitelout was saying.

He hadn’t yet checked whether Snotlout had named the Monstrous Nightmare. Hiccup cursed himself beneath his breath and craned his neck as best he could to see the door again.

He caught sight of a flash of bright white-blonde hair, and swallowed nervously. Elsa would be the one standing off to the side with Gobber this time, but Stoick had warned her that she might well be called upon to talk. At least she could talk for herself, Hiccup could not help but think. As he kept his eye on where Gobber usually stood, he saw them slip round from the edge of the crowd, Elsa pulling a scarf over her hair again. A scarf would stand out as well, in Berk, but perhaps not so much as her hair colour. She was rubbing her wrists, eyes shifting nervously over the crowd, and she slipped onto the far side of Gobber from everyone else, standing almost in his shadow.

Still more people were entering, and Hiccup didn’t think that he’d ever seen this many people at a meeting before. The hall grew warmer with the press of bodies, their heat more than the bonfire or the torches had managed to create, and filled with a constant low rumble of sound.

Finally, his father turned and scanned the hall. Hiccup found himself holding his breath.

“All right!” Stoick said. It carried effortlessly, and people fell silent for him. “Are we all accounted for? Is there anyone we’re waiting on?”

A few people muttered, and Hiccup saw one or two stand on their tiptoes to look around for friends or cousins, but nobody called out.

“All right, that’s good,” said Stoick. “I’m sure you’ve all some idea of why you’ve been called here tonight, _but_ ,” he pressed, before the wave of murmurs swelled and broke, “you may not know all of the reason. We did not just kill a dragon on that island. We changed things. For good.”

“How can you be sure?” someone shouted.

Stoick didn’t look impressed at being interrupted, but it was a usual part of village meetings. He went to speak, only for another of the village to shout back instead.

“I don’t know about you, but I’ve not seen a beast the like of that before. It has to mean something.”

“There wasn’t the one,” someone shouted back,” there was forty–”

“–sixty, at least–”

“Hush, the lot of you!” Stoick said, and for him they actually did. He shook his head vaguely, sighing. “We’ve looked in the Book. If we are not wrong, the creature was a Red Death.”

The hall erupted. Hiccup almost staggered back a pace as everyone started shouting at once, so many voices overlaid on each other that he could not make out what any of them were saying. Stoick shared a glance with Spitelout, who cupped his hands around his mouth. “Settle down!” he barked. Spitelout had a good voice for barking, possibly even better than Stoick’s.

“The Red Death is a myth, nothing more,” said one of the women, the background noise finally loud enough to be heard.

Gobber peeled himself upright from the pillar where he had been leaning, but without even looking round Stoick raised a hand to hold him back. “The Red Death is a story that not all believed to be true. But then again, not everyone believed in Night Furies, yet we know that we’ve had them here on Berk.”

That caused mutterings, and more. “Aye,” one of the men called. “And what of the Night Fury. It–”

“Later,” said Stoick. Hiccup wished that he had half his father’s ability to make people listen to him. “It does nobody any good if we argue about half-truths and guesses, so I will give you the facts. The creature of Dragon Island was a Red Death, and its brood was beneath the mountain besides. We can be sure of that, and we can write in our Book of Dragons that it is real.”

“Was real,” somebody said, to a smattering of laughter. Hiccup rolled his eyes at the foolery of it all.

Stoick went on as if he had not noticed. “Thanks to my son Hiccup,” he had to speak more loudly as people started talking all at once again, “and the Night Fury that he saved, the beast is no more.”

And the Monstrous Nightmare, technically, but that was perhaps something to be saved for later. Hiccup was not yet sure whether the villagers would lump all of the dragons together, or whether they would see Toothless as something slightly different to the others, the only Night Fury and the one who had been most involved in killing the Red Death with Hiccup.

“It has been half a moon, and there has been no dragon attack. We have had _peace_ , for fourteen nights now. And it is thanks to the destruction of the Red Death that this has been possible.”

He might not have meant for it to be a note of celebration, but cheering started, ragged at first and then swelling in volume. Someone started shouting Hiccup’s name, and before long there was a chant of it, not necessarily all in-time but enthusiastic and joyful. Hiccup did not know what to think of it, and looked round to Stoick in confusion. Stoick’s lips twitched just slightly, but it was hard to see whether or not he smiled behind his beard.

“And–” Stoick started to say, but it was cut off by another outburst of cheering. There was shouting as well, beneath it, angry, and though Hiccup could not hear the words he could hear the tension of it in the room. “Listen–”

“It wasn’t just me,” said Hiccup, his voice ringing like a bell through the room. He hadn’t quite anticipated it being that loud, or how surprised people would look as they turned to face him. “Without T- the Night Fury, I wouldn’t have been able to do it. He was the one that showed me where the Red Death was, and what it was. It killed dragons, and ate–”

“Perhaps we should have been thanking it,” someone said.

Hiccup glared in the general direction of the voice. “It ate them! And because it ate them, they took food from us to try to keep it away. You have _seen_ that they have not come for our food since it died.”

“Because we scared them off once and for all!” came a shout.

“Shut your mouth, you fool!” said someone else. “You couldn’t even count to fourteen!”

It started up again then, people arguing whether or not it was chance that the dragon attacks had stopped since the Red Death had been killed. Hiccup gritted his teeth at the ridiculousness of it all. Fine, so they had not seen what he had – but that did not mean they didn’t believe it. People believed in the gods without having to see them, people believed in other islands without ever having been to them, because others knew of them. If each person had to discover everything in life for themselves, there would not be much of a chance to learn anything.

He slammed the butt of one crutch against the floor. “It wasn’t hunting. You saw it break down the mountain to get out. And it would have needed food. That was why the dragons were taking our fish, our sheep – why else would they come somewhere so dangerous? With the Red Death gone, they won’t need to risk coming to Berk.”

“There’s still some of them here, though.”

“That is true,” Hiccup said. He wasn’t quite sure why he wanted to think of it as _admitting_ it. “I’ve heard it said that a dragon who doesn’t fear humans is the most dangerous of all. But what would that make a human who doesn’t fear dragons?”

He had to raise his voice to be heard, but found that he was somehow able to manage it, despite the sense that there was a solid wall of people around him. Most people would not be able to see him, not down here. Even Stoick’s glance across was slightly concerned – and slightly guilty, perhaps remembering what had happened when Hiccup spoke those words before.

“For some people, bravery is picking up a blade. But for some, it is putting it down.” He felt his hands grow slippery on his crutches again, and clenched them tightly. “We have been brave with blades in our hand for three hundred years. Now I suggest that we try being brave without them.”

There was instant uproar. People started shouting, and Hiccup staggered back a pace from the wall of sound, Stoick throwing up a protective arm in front of him. He caught snatches of words – about dead brothers and sisters, husbands and wives, parents and children. People started to turn in on the crowd to shout back at each other, a score of arguments trying to take place in the same time.

“Be quiet!” said Stoick. “Settle down!”

This time it did not work, and the shouting intensified. Stoick grumbled something beneath his breath, and kept trying to call people to order, while Hiccup looked around and behind them. The chair which his father had been offering stood abandoned, a few feet back. Hiccup crossed to it, grabbed the back and used it to pull himself up. For once, he found that he could actually see over peoples’ heads this way.

The noise declined, slowly at first then all at once as more and more people caught sight of Hiccup. Eventually even Stoick turned around, jaw dropping slightly, and Hiccup could see that he was about to be ordered to get down.

“I know how many people have died to protect this village,” he said, abruptly. “There’s nobody who hasn’t lost anyone.” It was not as if they could accuse him, or his father, of being unusual in that. Stoick had lost more than most to dragons, in his lifetime; Hiccup, and Gobber, were all that he had left. And even Hiccup was only mostly here. “But I don’t want that to be our future. I don’t want to see Berk full of widows and orphans,” he took a deep breath, “and with how things now are, I don’t think that we need to fight dragons.”

“And how many more will need to die before you change your mind?” shouted Lugstick. Hiccup should have known that he would speak up here, and was just grateful that he wasn’t standing anywhere near Bloodbeard just at the moment. The two of them together would hardly help matters. There were some grumbles of agreement.

“I’m not saying we shouldn’t defend ourselves,” Hiccup replied. “But we don’t need to start fights with the dragons. Half a moon, and no att–”

“Chance!” called someone.

Hiccup glared in their general direction. “Not in the last eight years. We’ve had one gap of fourteen days between attacks, six years ago, and if you want me to show you the records I will but we’ll be here all night, so I don’t recommend it. And in that time we have had dragons in the village and they have done no harm. They–”

“Are you going to listen to this _boy_?” A new voice entered the fray. Mildew slunk out from where he had been standing in the shadows of the hall, the empty space beside him probably for the sheep that was always at this side. “And what does he know about dragons?”

“Firstly–” began Hiccup.

“By the traditional standards of Berk, a child becomes an adult when they kill their first dragon,” said Stoick, looking straight at Mildew. “Hiccup stands before you a man.”

“Pah,” said Mildew. “It was the Night Fury that did it. He killed _half_ a dragon.”

“It was a very big dragon,” said Hiccup dryly.

He wasn’t expecting to get laughter for that, but he did, and some appreciative looks as well. Mildew pressed his lips together angrily and muttered something into his moustache. “One dragon doesn’t make a dragon-slayer, Stoick.”

“We weren’t arguing about whether or not I was a dragon-slayer, Mildew. I was saying that we do not need to kill dragons, that we will not need to now that they will have no need to take our food.” He tried to let his voice rise slowly, to keep ahead of the talking filling up the room again, but it was not the easiest thing. “Dragons are not killers by nature.”

 _That_ earnt another wave of noise, and Hiccup winced as it hit him. Stoick turned round and gestured for him to climb down from the chair, but for once in his life Hiccup could see what he was doing and he did not intend to climb back out of sight now.

“You only think of them as killers because you’ve only ever seen them fighting,” he called over the noise. “The dragons that have been here this past half moon – they have not fought you! And in all the time that I have known the Night Fury–”

“A Night Fury and a wildling!” he recognised Bloodbeard’s voice now. “This is the company your son keeps, Stoick?”

“A Night Fury who saved my life when the dragon fell, and a wildling – whose _name is Elsa_ –” Hiccup added, actually feeling the burn of anger now “–who helped save lives like yours against the Red Death’s hatchlings.”

“A wildling and a sorceress,” said Mildew, and spat on the floor. Someone near to him snarled in disgust, but there would be neither hands nor weapons raised at a village meeting. That was how it always stood. “Why should we trust her?”

“You weren’t even at Dragon Island, Mildew,” said someone else. “Maybe those of us who were involved should be the judges.”

Arguments broke out once again, and Hiccup sighed to himself. Give Vikings a common enemy and they were a mighty foe; leave them without one, and they had rather too much of a habit of turning on each other. He looked over to Elsa, who was standing a little bit closer to Gobber now and looking increasingly nervous.

Mildew rattled his staff in the air. “Say that to my face, you craven trollson!” They were not supposed to have weapons in here, but nobody would have taken Mildew’s staff any more than they would take Hiccup’s crutches from him. They could only be pragmatic about what could be used as weapons around here.

“Simmer down, Mildew,” said Stoick firmly. “You have as much right to speak as any other here.”

Which also pointed out, without saying as such, that people had as much right to listen or not as they saw fit. “Elsa has done us _no harm_ ,” said Hiccup. “And I don’t see how judging her by the actions of others, real or imagined, is supposed to be fair.”

“And how did she come by this magic?” shouted Bloodbeard again. “Lying with demons and beings of n–”

Again, the outcry, but this time Hiccup could not help but feel that some of it might have been in Elsa’s _defence_. It was hard to tell with so many people talking at once, though he was fairly sure that he caught someone talking about what nonsense it was to talk of demons, another asking how exactly that was supposed to put magic in someone, and at least one person commenting that it wasn’t as if Bloodbeard knew all that much about lying with anything these days. All of which was rather awkward to hear after Snotlout’s comments earlier. Hiccup wasn’t sure how much of this Elsa would understand, but perhaps that was a good thing.

“The girl claims to have had magic for as long as she can remember,” said Stoick. People started arguing about how much faith could be placed in a wildling’s claim, but he raised his voice above them again. “So I think we can throw out the demons theory. And I for one am more concerned with what she has _done_ in Berk – helped Hiccup get to Dragon Island, helped us kill the hatchlings, and helped care for him since we’ve returned.”

He probably could have done without the comment about caring. Hiccup felt his cheeks grow warm. But it was a small price to pay if it counted in Elsa’s favour.

“She’s already proved willing to fight for us. I am not about to turn people away from Berk just because of the fears of others.”

Hiccup looked at the back of his father’s head with raised eyebrows. It was one thing to talk in the abstract about the fear of dragons, but Stoick was all but accusing people of being scared of Elsa – a young woman, hardly speaking their language, magic or no. But then again, maybe Stoick had been right, and Hiccup should have been scared of Elsa, should have been more scared of Toothless than he was.

After that, it descended into anarchy. Hiccup stood on the chair a while longer, waiting for a lull in the noise that would allow him to say something that might actually be heard, but when it did not come he shook his head and tried to figure out a way to get down without making a complete fool of himself. Mercifully, Stoick saw him looking around and held out a hand to help him down to the ground. His shoulders were starting to ache by now.

“Thanks, Dad,” he said. “Do you want...” he waved vaguely to the village.

“No, we’ll let them argue it out for a while. See if we can get a consensus.”

Hiccup nodded, and flexed his left knee to try to get some feeling back in his thigh. Leaving Stoick and Spitelout to keeping control of the crowd as best they could, he made his way over to where Gobber and Elsa were standing.

Gobber nodded. “Not bad. See how it comes out.” He reached up to pick his teeth with the point of his hook.

“Thanks. You all right, Elsa?”

Her eyes were wide, one hand clasped very tightly around the other wrist, but she nodded. “What will happen?”

“Eh,” Hiccup glanced over to the main crowd, “that might take a few hours. Pretty sure there are more people on your side than not. The dragons might be a bit more of an argument.”

“Technically,” said Gobber, “she killed three of those hatchlings.”

“Well, that would make her three times the adult Viking that I am.” Judging by Elsa’s frown, that was something that she hadn’t caught the entirety of. Hiccup tried to roll his shoulders without losing his balance, and just about managed it. “All right, I might be willing to go for that seat now. Let’s find a bench and wait this out.”

“Are they going to fight?” said Elsa cautiously.

Hiccup shook his head. “Not badly. Might take a few hours for people to make up their minds though. The village is small enough that we can do this – everyone just talks, until there’s a decision. I mean, a war council wouldn’t, obviously. But they’re not treating this as one of them.” Which was also a good thing.

“How do the folk in the Wildlands make their decisions, then?” said Gobber, as Hiccup found an empty bench and gestured for Elsa to sit beside him.

Elsa tugged her scarf closer over her hair. “There are few people. It is not so hard.”

“Aye, fair point,” said Gobber. “This could take them a while. That Night Fury did save Hiccup’s life, and he is the son of the chief. That means something. And you speak our language, which helps your cause.”

“If they will not have me, I will leave,” said Elsa quietly, just to Hiccup.

Hiccup frowned, and grabbed hold of Elsa’s hand. She flinched, but he held on. “That’s not going to happen. I won’t let it.”

“Damn, I owe Tuffnut a fish,” said Snotlout. “I told him that wildling girlfriend theory was nonsense.”

Hiccup jumped so hard that he dropped his crutches and Elsa’s hand in the same moment, looking round to see that Ruffnut and Snotlout had wandered over to join them. He supposed that the only real upside to this was that Tuffnut himself was not here as well. “Snotlout! For the last time, Elsa is not my ‘secret wildling girlfriend’.”

“Well, she’s certainly not secret any more,” said Ruffnut.

“What is a ‘girlfriend’?” said Elsa, at a remarkably inopportune moment. “Is it a friend who is a girl?”

“Not _quite_ ,” said Hiccup, before one of the others could say yes and have Elsa saying that she was his girlfriend, or something similarly embarrassing would happen. He looked back to Ruffnut. “You know, not everyone shows their affection by hitting people.”

Ruffnut shrugged. “It gets the message across.”

“I think my Dad’s already in support of letting the dragons be. He thinks they might fight for us, if we needed them to,” said Snotlout. “Him and my mother had an argument about it last night. I think she’d rather not have the dragons on the island.”

“Might have been easier if this had been two meetings,” said Hiccup.

“Yes,” said Gobber, “but that would have meant waiting another moon. Did you really want that?”

The snows would be coming in by then, possibly even the first storms of the winter. “It probably would have turned into an argument over what we should argue about first,” Hiccup said flatly. “At least this way we can get it out of the way all in one go.”

His father had waded into the fray now, in favour of both Elsa and the dragons being allowed to remain in the village without censure. It was good, Hiccup supposed, that he at least had some people on his side.

“People are probably going to want to see the armour thing again,” said Ruffnut, folding her arms and looking at Elsa almost appreciatively. Elsa’s eyes flicked up nervously, but she remained sat beside Hiccup, shoulders hunched over. “That was pretty awesome. Can you do that again?”

“Now?”

“Not now,” said Hiccup quickly. Seeing Elsa in armour during the battle had been one thing, but it might well be another in the middle of the Great Hall.

Ruffnut looked disappointed. “But one day, come on. I totally have to see that again some time. And the Night Fury. I still haven’t seen it up close.”

“Once we get this settled,” said Hiccup. Toothless was currently curled up in his room, with a basket of fish to keep him occupied and some peace and quiet. Hopefully he would not try to climb onto Hiccup’s bed again; it had creaked alarmingly before Hiccup had managed to shoo him down again. “Maybe we could head over to the arena or something.”

“It does need sweeping out,” said Gobber. “Got a half moon of leaves in there.”

Well, at least Hiccup couldn’t be dragged into doing that again, he supposed. As long as the dragons would actually be willing to go back there. “We’ll work on that part.”

 

 

 

 

 

It took a while. Usually the village meeting was more about what to do with dragon carcasses, or which buildings to fix first, or how food would need to be hunted and gathered and stored. Being faced with this, with dragons and wildlings and changing their world, Hiccup was not surprised that the arguments and discussions carried on so long that the sky outside was starting to lighten again. His head hurt from the heat and his leg continued to ache, but most frustrating was that he could not get deeply involved in what was happening. Oh, he could have waded in and talked to people here or there, but Berk had to come to its own conclusion, not have one forced on it. That was how things worked.

He could see, and hear, his father in the midst of the crowd. Eventually Gobber waded in as well. Elsa stayed beside him on the bench, her hands wrapped so tightly around her wrists that he could not help worrying that she would hurt herself.

The words that he was hoping for came in the early hours of the morning. Astrid had just shoved her way through the crowd, bags under her eyes but a smile on her face, and Hiccup did not even have time to ask her what had happened before his father’s voice filled the hall.

“Then it is decided. The war with the dragons is over, and we emerge victorious.”

It was a statement, said plainly, and it took Hiccup a moment to understand. Then he found himself grinning as well, trying to get to his feet.

“We have faced many enemies,” Stoick continued, “and we know that in victory we do not have to kill all. We know that peace is possible.”

“He did it,” said Hiccup, wide-eyed.

“No,” replied Astrid. “You did it.”

She pulled him over to kiss him on the cheek again, then caught him when he almost tripped over his crutches. Both of them started laughing, and Hiccup wasn’t even sure why but it might have had something to do with the elation in the air, and then Astrid pulled Elsa to her feet and hugged her as well, much to Elsa’s surprise.

“What happens?” said Elsa, her usually perfect repetition apparently abandoning her for the moment as cheering – or at least, mostly cheering – filled the hall.

“You’re staying,” said Astrid. “Here.”

Elsa tilted her head, lips moving soundlessly for a moment, then she gave the brightest smile that Hiccup had ever seen on her face.

“Time for a new word,” said Hiccup. “ _Home_.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I refuse to apologise for Snotlout.


	15. Chapter 15

Waking up the next morning might have been better had it not been due to a loud curse from his father and the sound of a slamming door. Hiccup looked up blearily, rubbed his eyes, and rolled over onto his back. There was more rattling going on downstairs, and muted voices which seemed very at odds with the noise Stoick had been making. He was just readying to grab his crutches when Gobber came up the stairs, frowning and peering around Hiccup’s room.

“Is everything all right?”

Gobber took a deep breath before replying. “Elsa’s missing.”

“What?” Hiccup was on his feet – or, at least, on his foot – faster than a blink. “What happened?”

“We don’t know,” said Gobber as soothingly as he could manage, raising his hand and motioning for Hiccup to back down. It was all very well saying that, though, when Hiccup’s heart was pounding in his chest like he had been running for hours. “She probably just... nipped out somewhere.”

Which was, of course, also nonsense, but there you were. “She knows the edges of the Wildlands better than anyone in the village would. You’re going to need a tracker to have a chance–”

“We’re checking the village first,” said Gobber. “Astrid’s house, Fishlegs’s, she’s getting to be friends with them, right? I told your father I’d check in your room, as well.”

“Why would she be in my room?” Hiccup gestured with his head, in lieu of sweeping an arm around. Gobber gave him a pointed look, and Hiccup wanted to curl up in a ball and hide in his bed again. “Oh, you have got to be kidding me. Does he seriously think...? No, I’m not even saying it.”

Bad enough for the twins to remember the wildling girlfriend nonsense.

“As you can see, it’s just me and Toothless.”

Toothless chirped and raised his head at the sound of his name. At the sight of Gobber, he licked his lips, a request for breakfast that still would have looked strange out of context, and furled the wing that had been covering his side.

To reveal Elsa.

Both Gobber and Hiccup stood there stupidly for what was probably a good few seconds. Elsa was curled against Toothless’s side, a blanket beneath her but Toothless’s wing apparently having been her cover for the night. She was almost in the foetal position, her head resting on one of Toothless’s forelegs and her back against his side.

“Well,” said Hiccup finally, “that answers one question.”

“And brings up so many more.”

Hiccup’s shoulders sank and he looked at Gobber almost pleadingly. “Oh, come on. You don’t really think my Dad’s going to get the wrong idea about this, do you?”

“You and a young woman alone in your room all night? What’s there to get the wrong idea about?”

With a grunt of frustration, Hiccup sat down heavily on his bed again. Toothless uncurled from Elsa, got to his feet, and padded over to headbutt Hiccup in the side. Hiccup absently scratched him between the ears, to a pleased huff.

Elsa stirred from her blanket, ran the back of one hand across her eyes, and looked around blearily. She smiled as she saw them, but must have seen Hiccup’s serious expression as her smile faded once again. “Good... morning?”

“Why don’t you come and get some breakfast?” said Gobber firmly. He didn’t really have to, considering that breakfast was another word that seemed to have entered Elsa’s vocabulary without Hiccup ever actually teaching it to her, but Elsa nodded cautiously and rose to her feet.

As she passed, Hiccup gave her a faint wave. “Good morning. I’ll see you downstairs.”

Once they were both down, and Hiccup could hear Gobber explaining to Stoick what had happened, he sighed and looked over at Toothless. “This is going to go really well, isn’t it, bud?”

 

 

 

 

 

Breakfast was a lesson in awkwardness. Hiccup couldn’t meet his father’s eyes, Stoick wouldn’t stop trying to stare down Hiccup, and Gobber tried to whistle cheerfully over the top of it all while Toothless sat at Hiccup’s side and looked hopefully at everything on the table.

They were saved, at least, by a knock at the door. Gobber answered it to reveal Astrid on the step, still smiling. “So, is Hiccup free to come introduce us to Toothless?”

Finally, Hiccup dared look at Stoick, who pursed his lips but nodded curtly. Hiccup pushed his bowl away and made to get to his feet, even as Elsa was scraping her bowl clean. He’d never before met someone so pleased to eat porridge.

“Hiccup, if I could have a word with you before you go,” said Stoick, sinking any hopes of escape which Hiccup might have been harbouring.

“Of course,” said Hiccup airily. He turned to Astrid and smiled. “Why don’t you guys head over to the arena? That’d probably be the best place. I’ll catch up.”

Astrid glanced pointedly at his leg.

“All right, so how about you guys go on ahead and sweep it out, and I’ll meet you there?”

“That sounds more like a deal,” said Astrid. “You coming, Elsa?”

Elsa looked to Hiccup, who took once glance at his father’s face and nodded. “Yeah, go on. I’ll be fine.”

She nodded and got to her feet. “Thank you. I will see you later.”

Hiccup sat in uncomfortable silence as Elsa left the table – taking one of the loaves of bed so quickly that it was almost a sleight-of-hand – and followed Astrid out of the door. It swung closed behind them, and Hiccup tried to come up with something to say that was not going to sound overly defensive. But he wasn’t sure that there was anything that fell into that category.

He took a deep breath. “Dad,” he said cautiously, “if this is about Elsa being in my room...”

“It wasn’t going to be,” said Stoick. “Until this morning, at least. No, this is about the dragons.”

“The village meeting was in favour of letting them live,” said Hiccup.

Stoick nodded. “Yes, but there were still some people arguing against it. Bloodbeard, Mildew, Lugstick, a few others. There might well be some fighting still, and I need you to see it before it starts, and let me know.”

“I can help,” Hiccup protested. Foot or no foot, there was nothing wrong with his brain, and that had always been his weapon of preference. Which was something of a necessity when you had the luck with weapons that Hiccup did. “I can talk to people as well as you can, Dad.”

Stoick looked at him flatly. “That doesn’t mean that everybody will be as good at listening. Just let me know if you have any trouble, or see any of it. Send someone to come find me if you need to.”

“Fine,” he said. In the faint hope of escaping without this getting any more embarrassing than this morning had already been, Hiccup grabbed his crutches and scooted round on the bench so that he was facing the right way to get up. “We’ll be at the arena today, so hopefully there’ll be no trouble. I don’t know what the others know.” Which was a slightly concerning thought in and of itself, truth be told. Hiccup dreaded to think what the twins had managed to discover about Zipplebacks, especially with what Astrid had said about explosions. “I’ll see you later.

Stoick cleared his throat pointedly. Hiccup sunk back down onto the bench and turned around again.

“Yes?”

“You do know that it’s not... appropriate for Elsa to be in your room.”

Considering Hiccup’s actual track record of interaction with the opposite sex had previously consisted of being ignored, being corrected, or occasionally being threatened... well, actually that was about on a level with his interactions with the same sex. Up until he had taken Astrid flying, at least. Hiccup felt himself blushing as Astrid came to mind, which was not exactly going to help his side. “It’s not like that,” he said quickly. “When she was in the cove, she and Toothless slept in the same cave, I think. It’s probably just that.”

“Probably?” said Stoick pointedly, raising his eyebrows.

“Well, she’s not here to ask!” Hiccup waved to the door where the girls had exited. “But as far as I can tell... she’s just used to sleeping near to Toothless. And he likes being in my room.”

Stoick’s lips were pressed tightly together beneath his beard, his brow furrowed. “Be that as it may, I can’t allow it to continue.”

The word ‘continue’ didn’t quite seem right when they were talking about one instance, but Hiccup was not going to get into arguments of semantics right now. There had been a bad enough mountain made out of this molehill already. “That’s fine, I understand. I’ll have a word with her.”

“Make sure she does understand,” said Stoick, getting to his feet.

Taking that as his cue to escape, Hiccup made the fastest exit that he could manage under the circumstances, and refrained from rolling his eyes until he was outside the house. If this had anything to do with either of the twins, he was going to tie them up and let Toothless take them for a good long flight. Including a certain amount of dipping in and out of the sea. Such rides could only be called fun in hindsight.

He managed to resist the urge to swear his way up to the arena, although it was also sorely tempting to get Toothless to give him a ride even if they couldn’t fly right now. It would be best for his shoulder strength if he could manage on his crutches, though, and he was getting used to it by now. Toothless walked calmly at his side, tail and saddle already in place from where he had put them on before even going downstairs. He had been hoping to talk Astrid into another flight anyway.

The wind was bitingly cold, with very fine flecks of rain in the air that were probably on the verge of being snow anyway. The arena was even more exposed than Berk itself, out on the edge of the village, though the way that it cut down into the rocks meant that at least being inside it gave them a modicum of protection.

As he arrived, Snotlout was just pushing a wheelbarrow full of leaves out of the door. “You did this every _day_?” he said in disbelief, as he caught sight of Hiccup.

“Well, it was easier with two feet,” Hiccup replied. Although they had been training through the depths of autumn, which was the worst time of year for fallen leaves on Berk. He carefully made his way down the ramp and into the arena, where a huge pile of leaves had been built up just to one side of the door. The twins and Fishlegs were all wielding brooms, Astrid standing with her arms folded and surveying them. Behind her, the dragons were milling around, the Nadder grooming and the Zippleback bickering with itself over a fish that someone must have found for it, and Elsa stroking the muzzle of the Monstrous Nightmare.

“Nice of you to join us,” said Astrid.

“Well, it was hard to find time in my busy schedule, but what can I say?” He was probably going to be regretting the lack of chairs before this day was over, but there were various barrels and crates that they had used for other things. “I thought I should meet everyone properly.”

“You probably know these dragons better than we do,” said Fishlegs. The Gronckle hatchlings were, as usual, at his feet, still flying in short bursts that only got them a few inches off the ground at a time. Meatlug was beside him, watching over with what looked vaguely like a smile.

Toothless walked over to the Gronckles, one of which promptly rolled on its back for Toothless to roll it back and forth. Meatlug leant over and gave Toothless and his saddle a good sniff, but grunted in what was probably approval.

“So,” Hiccup said. “Who wants to do the introductions? I know that the Deadly Nadder is Stormfly,” he nodded his head to her, and she looked up from her tail at the sound of her name, “and the Gronckle is Meatlug. Anyone else?”

“Oh, me, me!” shouted Snotlout. He ran back into the room, so close to Hiccup that he almost sent him stumbling, and right up to the Monstrous Nightmare. With just a long enough pause to smile at Elsa in what he probably thought was a suave manner, he gestured. “Hiccup, I give you... Hookfang!”

“Hookfang?”

“The mightiest warrior in the archipelago,” said Snotlout, flexing the muscles in his arm. Astrid rolled her eyes with a disgusted mutter, and Elsa might have been trying not to laugh. “Except for me, of course. There’s room for two,” he added, in Elsa’s direction.

Somehow, she kept a straight face.

“So,” Hiccup moved on quickly. “Ruffnut, Tuffnut. Does the Zippleback have a name?”

“Barf,” said Ruffnut, at the exact same time as Tuffnut said, “Belch.”

The head which did the sparking, which Tuffnut stood closer to, won ownership of the fish and tossed it back with a hiss. The other head butted it in the throat in response.

“You do realise it’s one dragon?” said Hiccup.

“Yeah, but it’s got two heads,” replied Ruffnut, as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. “You’ve got to have some way to tell them apart.”

He’d heard worse logic. “And... what happened to the Terrible Terror?” There had been one, a little green fellow with reddish burnishing down his spine and across his wings. Hiccup remembered Gobber telling him that one was male.

“It’s living in my roof,” said Astrid. “It tried to live with Fishlegs, but we figured that three dragons in one house was enough."

“Are your parents all right with that?”

She shrugged, and moved her fringe out of her face. “They weren’t too happy at first, but after you made your little speech about bravery they came around.”

It had all been said so impulsively, and didn’t feel quite real even if it had only been the previous night. Hiccup couldn’t help a smile, though, at the idea that what he said had actually changed peoples’ minds. “I can’t tell you how glad I am to hear that. How’s it getting along without flying?”

“Eating a lot of scraps, mostly. I think it’ll get by. How long do they live?”

Hiccup shook his head. “Not something that the Dragon Book really talks about. I guess it’ll be up to us to find out. Maybe given enough years it’ll be able to fly again.”

With slashes in its wings, he wasn’t so sure that was the case, but all he could really do was hope. Or perhaps they would come up with something they could do, in the way that he had for Toothless.

“Well, I guess that leaves me... everyone, I want you to meet Toothless.” Toothless looked up briefly at his name, then decided that rubbing against Fishlegs would be a better use of his time instead. “He’s, well, I suppose he’s _the_ Night Fury. There weren’t any attacks after him.”

The Zipplebacks pushed Snotlout aside as they stomped over to Elsa and started sniffing at her, then nipping at her skirts. Stifling laughter, she tried to push them both away, but did not really have enough hands.

It took Hiccup a moment, then he caught on and grinned. “Elsa, did you bring dragon nip?”

“Perhaps.” She reached down the front of her shirt – Snotlout’s eyes almost popped out of his head – and pulled out a small bag which both heads of the Zippleback immediately tried to pluck from her hands.

“What’s dragon nip?” said Tuffnut. His eyes brightened with excitement. “Does it make them bite you?”

“What? No,” said Hiccup. He caught Elsa’s eye and nodded for her to come over, and the dragons walked tamely after her as she did so. “It’s this grass from out in the Wildlands, they really like it. It’s how I first made friends with them, when I was apprenticing here.”

It seemed like a lifetime ago, not the half a moon or so that it had been since the Red Death and everything that had happened in those couple of days.

“Here, let me show you.” He waggled his fingers towards the bag, and Elsa let him take a tuft of the dragon nip out and hold it up. The nearest dragon happened to be Stormfly, who plucked it deftly out of his hand and swallowed it, then rubbed her cheek against Hiccup’s palm with a low chuffing sound. “Anybody else want to give it a go?”

Everyone glanced at each other, as if seeing who was going to be the first to volunteer for whatever strangeness Hiccup had thought up this time, then Fishlegs went to take a step forwards and almost tripped over one of the Gronckles. The Gronckle squeaked and lurched, and Fishlegs jolted to a halt, eyes widening.

“It’s all right, baby! Daddy’s sorry, Daddy’s sorry!”

Hiccup raised his eyebrows, not sure when Fishlegs had become Daddy to the Gronckles, and determinedly not making any of the jokes that were just begging to be made. If they could get through the day without Snotlout starting again, it would probably be appreciated.

“Me first,” said Snotlout, barging past Fishlegs and setting off some more squeaking from the Gronckles. He shoved his hand into the bag, still trying to smile at Elsa in a manner that was frankly disturbing after the breakfast that Hiccup had sat through, and pulled out a large handful of dragon nip.

“Uh, that... might be a little more than...”

Snotlout thrust his hand in the direction of the Monstrous Nightmare, who leant in and sniffed at it. Hookfang, that was what Snotlout had called him. Hiccup tried to secure that in his mind. Hookfang’s eyes constricted, he gave another deep huff, then snapped at the grass so sharply that for a moment Hiccup was sure there was going to be blood on the ground and another abrupt amputation. He flinched, but Snotlout just laughed and patted the Nightmare on the snout instead.

“Yeah, you show them how it’s done, big guy.”

“All right, shall we just try with a little bit less next time? I mean, the Nightmare is the largest dragon, after all,” he said, trying not to think too hard about how badly that nearly went. “And maybe skip the hatchlings...”

 

 

 

 

 

Astrid’s parents had sent her in with a basket of fresh bread and half a wheel of sheep’s cheese, which she had secreted in the armoury while Hiccup explained to them about dragon nip and how Toothless had introduced him to it. Somehow, that turned into talking about eels, then about shiny objects and their reflected light, and before he knew it he had spoken his way through the morning.

“Should we head back to the village to eat?” said Fishlegs. “I told my mother I’d be out all day, but...”

“What,” said Astrid, “you think my parents thought I was going to eat eight loaves of bread by myself? Let’s just eat out here.”

She set down the basket in the middle of the floor almost pointedly, and Toothless wandered over to sniff at it. “Not you,” said Hiccup, and the dragon looked round plaintively. “No. You had fish for breakfast, I saw Gobber feed you.”

“I can’t believe he talks to a Night Fury like that,” said Ruffnut, in what might have been supposed to be a whisper but completely failed at it.

“I know,” said Tuffnut. “And people say we’re crazy.”

“It’s been a long couple of moons.” That didn’t even begin to touch it, but it was the best that Hiccup had to offer. If there wasn’t going to be an actual chair, he supposed that he could do worse than sitting on the ground, even if it might take some effort to get back to his feet again. His armpits ached from the crutches anyway. Shrugging, Hiccup sat down beside the basket. “If you’re sure your parents won’t mind, Astrid...”

“I’m _not_ repeating myself,” she said, punching him on the shoulder in passing before sitting down herself.

“Come on,” said Hiccup to Elsa, gesturing to the ground beside him. “It’s been a while since I’ve had a picnic.”

Technically, every time that he had eaten with Elsa was probably close to a picnic, outdoors and with the food either cold from the village or cooked over a fire. But that had been different, not by choice, and it certainly hadn’t involved a wicker basket with patterns woven round the handle. Elsa sat down beside Hiccup, Toothless sitting behind them so that he could stick his head in between in search of scraps, and there was an immediate scramble to be the person that sat on the other side of her.

This was going to be a long day.

Ruffnut won, mostly by kicking Snotlout in the back of the knee on the dash over, and flopped to the ground so hard that Elsa jumped and looked round warily. “So,” she said, “you’re Elsa, huh?”

“I’m guessing that Astrid introduced you guys,” said Hiccup, leaning round.

“Well, she told us who Elsa was, before you guys were on the boat back to Berk,” said Ruffnut with a shrug. She wound her fingers into one of her braids. “You guys were on the first ship to sail. We had to wait for Gobber to patch up the dragons.” Her eyes moved back to Elsa again. “But we weren’t properly introduced. I’m Ruffnut Thorston.”

She extended her hand to Elsa, who glanced round to Hiccup before doing anything. When he shrugged, she reached out and took it, and Ruffnut’s eyes went wide. Possibly the strength of Elsa’s grip, possibly the chill, Hiccup supposed. “My name is Elsa.”

“Do you have a surname or–”

“And I,” Tuffnut lunged forwards and slammed both of his hands down on Ruffnut’s head, pushing her out of the way and grinning manically in Elsa’s face. “Am Tuffnut the Bold.”

“They don’t call you Tuffnut the Bold,” said Ruffnut, straightening up and punching his upper leg to make him stagger sideways. “More like Tuffnut the Muttonhead.”

“You’re the–“

“Guys, can we not?” said Hiccup. His headaches were getting better in the last few days, but he didn’t put it past the twins to bring them back full force.

Elsa laid a hand gently on his forearm. “What is a ‘surname’?”

“Oh, er, it’s a family name,” he said. “So if your father has a name, and you inherit it. Some families have it. So Ruffnut is Ruffnut Thorston, and Tuffnut is Tuffnut Thorston, and their father is actually Tuffnut Thorston the First but we don’t worry about that too much.”

“So you are Hiccup the Vast?”

He didn’t even get his mouth open before Snotlout cracked up laughing. It spread, and soon the twins were going as well and even Astrid was struggling to keep a straight face. Elsa looked around at them as if she wasn’t sure who was the one going insane, and Hiccup could not really blame her for it given the circumstances.

“No,” he said with as much dignity as he could manage. “My family name is Haddock, but we… don’t use it all that much. And I haven’t really got a title yet.”

“What about–” Astrid began.

“I’m not being called Dragon Master.”

On his other side, he could hear Elsa saying to Ruffnut that she did not remember if she had a family name, and Ruffnut’s sound of disappointment. He had actually managed to keep the conversation mostly about dragons for the past few hours, but he suspected that wasn’t going to be so possible over lunch.

Perhaps luckily, it was Fishlegs who got there first, managing to block the loaf of bread that Astrid threw at his face and redirect it into his lap instead. “So, Hiccup, uh, how did you meet Toothless?”

In a manner that was slightly less auspicious than that in which his father and Gobber had first met, come to think of it. “I shot him down,” admitted Hiccup. He was ready to block when Astrid started to raise another loaf of bread with her gaze in his direction, but she just tossed it lightly across rather than going for a full heft. “With the thing that... actually, guys, what happened to that?”

The twins looked round blankly.

“The bola-thrower that I made. My Dad said that you found it round the back of the smithy.”

“Oh,” said Ruffnut. “Don’t remember. We were still drunk then.”

Once again, Hiccup was not at all sure that there was a good answer to that. Trying to figure out whether or not they had still been drunk when he had put them on the back of a Zippleback was certainly not going to lead anywhere. “Well, yes,” he said. “That. It was the...” he glanced over at Astrid. “The night with the pie.”

“The night with the Monstrous Nightmare, you mean.” She saw that the twins were not looking and quickly lobbed two loaves in their direction. Ruffnut’s caught her on the ear, while Tuffnut’s caught him right at the base of his throat. He made a choking sound and fell over backwards, while the Gronckle hatchlings scampered over him and tried to steal his bread.

“It sounds so weird to admit that I forgot about a dragon,” he continued, reaching over to scratch the top of Toothless’s head again. “But yeah, the Nightmare made me forget the Night Fury, I suppose. Only I go to talk to Elsa, and when I get there... there’s a Night Fury as well.”

“You saw it first?” said Fishlegs.

Elsa nodded, only questionably aware of the awe in his voice. “He crashed into the cove. I cut him loose. He was still scared when Hiccup arrived.”

“Yeah, I’m guessing that he didn’t recognise me, or he probably wouldn’t have been so willing to let me near. It was Elsa’s idea to fix up his tail.” Toothless rumbled, rubbing against Hiccup’s shoulder, and Hiccup gave him a soft smile. “I’m glad I did.”

“Maybe you were wrong,” said Snotlout, with his usual failure to whisper. “Maybe it was a secret dragon girlfriend.”

Hiccup was not going to dignify that with anything more than a withering stare.

 

 

 

 

 

That afternoon, he got them to show him some of the things that they had learnt over the last days instead. He might have been the one around the Night Fury, but they had been the ones around the other dragons.

“It’s his spit that makes him flame up,” said Snotlout proudly. He wiped his hands on Hookfang’s neck and held it out to Hiccup, almost at nose-height. One whiff of the acrid gel was quite enough, and Hiccup took a hasty step backwards. “I saw him always licking himself, all over, and when I went close I realised that it was his spit.”

“That is actually really clever,” Hiccup had to admit.

Snotlout grinned. “Obviously.”

He hadn’t meant finding it out, more the idea itself, but he let it slide. The Book of Dragons hadn’t said anything about how some of the Stoker Class dragons lit themselves on fire, so that was something that was going to need to be added. And it had only been half a moon.

It just went on, people talking over each other at times in their attempts to talk about their dragon, about the new amazing things that they had discovered. Nadders loved dustbaths. Gronckles had bad reactions to limestone, or at least Meatlug did. If you fed mead to one head of a Zippleback, the other head got drunk as well.

Hiccup decided very quickly that he didn’t want to know how that particular one had been discovered.

“Oh, and Hookfang does this thing with fish,” said Snotlout, cutting into Astrid’s explanation that Stormfly liked bright, shiny objects. “Like, he eats half of it, and then he hawks it back up again.”

“Yeah! Belch does that as well!”

“And Barf.”

“I suppose I should have guessed that they all would,” said Hiccup. He had seen both Toothless and Meatlug do it, he supposed; he just hadn’t made the connection more broadly. Meatlug had only been feeding her babies, after all. “So did you eat it?”

Silence met his question. Snotlout looked disgusted; the twins, vaguely intrigued. Hiccup frowned.

“You didn’t realise that was what they wanted?”

“I thought it just meant he was full.”

Ruffnut shrugged. “We figured that one head ate it but the other one didn’t like it.”

“Baby steps, bud,” said Hiccup, patting Toothless on the head. “We’ll get there.”

 

 

 

 

 

They only got a few more hours before the weather worsened. Fine snow turned to sleet, thick slapping flakes that managed to combine all of the soaking of rain with the chill of snow in one uncomfortable package. The wind was not so bad, and at first they took shelter in one of the pens to see if it would pass, but it only worsened and Hiccup shook his head.

“I think we’re going to have to give it up for today,” he said. “Even the dragons aren’t looking too happy.”

Other than Toothless and the hatchlings, the dragons had refused to go back into any of the pens even with the humans, and Meatlug had scooped up her babies in her mouth when they had tried to go inside. Even when Fishlegs tried to coax her in, she narrowed her eyes and hunkered down, flattening her ears against her head.

“For today?” echoed Astrid. “Do you mean this to be a regular thing, then?”

That bought Hiccup up short, blinking in surprise. He hadn’t been thinking much at all when he had said it. “Well, I... I suppose. I mean, we could bring a copy of the Book of Dragons along and write this all down. We’re bound to forget some of it otherwise. And there’s nowhere else big enough for all the dragons to gather.”

“Do you reckon we could get some sort of roof?” said Fishlegs. “They’re talking about replacing the Great Hall’s, maybe we could get some of the dr...”

He trailed off, looking over at the dragons as he realised what he had been about to say. One of the things that had come out of the village meeting, of all places, was that if they were going to declare a peace with the dragons then they should stop using dragon skin as a roof material.

“Maybe not,” said Hiccup.

“That is definitely not getting any better.” Snotlout wrinkled his note as the sleet became heavier. A gust of wind managed to whip some of the sleet into the pen, just to make his point.

The path to the arena had been treacherous enough on crutches while it had been dry. Time had already been added to the time that Hiccup would need to wait before even a basic prosthetic, and he did not intend to add on more by falling again. “You guys head on back,” he said. “I’ll stay here with Toothless, wait for it to clear up.”

“Or you could fly back,” said Astrid. Hiccup looked at her flatly. “Fine, _we_ could fly back. Don’t tell me you weren’t considering it.”

The others were watching, mostly just with interest, but Ruffnut was looking amused enough that Hiccup felt himself starting to blush again. He wasn’t sure whether riding on a dragon at the same time was more or less incriminating than being asleep on opposite sides of the same room, but he wasn’t sure that he wanted to find out either.

“The path will still be slippery even after it stops raining,” she continued, before he could put together a protest that was anything more than garbled sounds. “Are you going to wait for summer before you head back?”

The worst of the damage had probably already been done. Hiccup looked round to the others. “Someone needs to take Elsa home. And my crutches.”

“I’ll do it,” said Ruffnut and Snotlout at the same time. Hiccup had really been hoping that Fishlegs would be the one to volunteer, but he still seemed intimidated by Elsa at times. Even when it had taken Hiccup’s encouragement to get her to touch the Gronckle hatchlings, and she handled them as if they were made of glass.

Hiccup weighed the choice for an instant, and really hoped that he wouldn’t have reason to regret it when he said, “Thank you, Ruffnut. I’ll see you back at home.”

Astrid was already slipping into Toothless’s saddle as comfortably as if she had been flying for moons as well. She grinned at Hiccup, and he manoeuvred himself into place behind her before handing his crutches to Elsa. “I’ll see you at home,” he said.

She smiled. “Home.”


	16. Chapter 16

Taking off was not quite so traumatic this time around. Hiccup didn’t even complain when Astrid kept rising, so high that they burst through the clouds and into the sunlight again. He had to shade his eyes against the pearl-grey glare of the clouds below them, but it never got old to have the thought of _clouds below_.

It was cold up here, but a dry cold, easier to handle. The sun was still fairly high above the horizon. “You forget how long the days are sometimes,” said Hiccup. “When the clouds are out.”

Astrid chuckled. “But you did your flying at night, didn’t you?”

“Yeah. I’m amazed that I didn’t wear through my windowsill with how often I climbed out.” As Toothless settled into his slower, almost effortless flight, Hiccup released his hold on Astrid’s waist and sat back more comfortably. He would have trusted himself to stay on before, but the strength had gone from his legs and it hurt too much to hold on too tightly anyway. Mercifully, Astrid had not said anything about it. “Most nights we’d go flying for a couple of hours, then sit with Elsa for a while. I’d get back in time to grab a few hours’ sleep before I had to get up for the day.”

“I’m amazed you didn’t fall asleep at the arena.”

Hiccup laughed, but couldn’t quite bring himself to admit that the past few moons had still been probably the best of his life. Tiredness and bruises had been nothing compared to talking with Elsa and getting to know Toothless and _flying_ , something which he would not sure he would ever find the words for.

“So,” said Astrid, and he heard the slowing in her voice. “You and Elsa...”

“Oh my gods.” He meant to be offended. He honestly thought he was _going_ to be offended. But somehow Hiccup found himself laughing, so hard that he had to clutch at Astrid again and there were tears in his eyes. Only as his laughter subsided a little did Astrid speak again.

“It’s not _that_ weird an idea.”

“No, no, it’s...” he waved a hand vaguely, even though she would have barely been able to see it out of the corner of her eye. “Have you been listening to the twins?”

“No!” Astrid elbowed him lightly in the ribs.

Hiccup snorted with laughter again, but managed to keep himself under control. “Sorry. It’s just, well. Elsa decided last night that she wanted to sleep next to Toothless.”

“Huh.”

“Toothless was in my room.”

He gave it a few heartbeats, then he felt Astrid jolt as she realised it, and turn in her seat to stare at him. Her eyes were huge.

“Not in my bed!” He protested quickly. At least he hadn’t needed to say _that_ to his father, because dropping dead from embarrassment would probably have been preferable to do so. “By Toothless. Across the room.”

“I was going to say,” said Astrid, then started laughing as well. In a more controlled manner than Hiccup, chuckling rather than completely breaking down. “I mean, you guys are just pretty... familiar. I thought I should check.”

He considered pointing out that Astrid had kissed him twice now, and that if there had been anything going on then he would have pointed it out, but couldn’t bring himself to actually say it aloud in case it turned out to have been some ridiculous dream. In any case, there was just something about thinking of Elsa romantically that was the wrong shape for his brain.

“It’s... you know how when you’re a kid, you wish that you had siblings?” Fishlegs griped about his sisters from time to time, of course, and the twins complained about each other on a pretty regular basis, but he was pretty sure that another only child like Astrid would understand. Sure enough, she nodded. “I mean, sometimes I wished I had an older sibling, but usually I wished that I had a younger one.”

An older one to protect him from the other children, notably Snotlout; a younger one for whom he could be the protector, the big brother figure, someone actually worth looking up to. There weren’t many only children around, and it was hardly as if Hiccup could have said anything like this to his father.

“Anyway, it’s... it’s more like that. Like having an older sister. Or maybe a younger. I’m not always sure.”

“And a pet dragon.”

Hiccup glanced down at Toothless, who huffed over his shoulder at them. “Either that, or he’s got a pet human. I’m really not too sure about that.”

 

 

 

 

 

They managed a neat landing right behind Hiccup’s house, and Elsa appeared round the corner of it just moments later, crutches in hand.

“Ruffnut didn’t kidnap you, then?” said Hiccup. His foot had gone to sleep, and he tried to kick the air to wake it up before standing up again. Astrid managed to extricate herself from the saddle without knocking him over and stepped aside.

“Kidnap?”

“Take somewhere else.”

“Ah,” said Elsa, then smiled again. “No, she brought me here. Tuffnut kidnapped the Zippleback.”

Entirely a possibility, but not just at that moment. “Oh, no. Kidnap is take somewhere else without asking. So... you know what, don’t worry about it. Bad word by me.” The ground was soft underfoot, not quite muddy yet but probably heading that way before too long. He had to concentrate to get his balance again, before risking a look to see that Elsa was wearing an expression of complete confusion. “Forget it.”

Elsa shook her head to herself, but fell into step beside him. “You had a good flight?”

They had been out longer than intended, until the sky really did start to darken slightly and they realised that hours must have passed. “Definitely. Is anyone else home at the moment?”

“Just Gobber. He was talking about the Shivering Shores.”

“Sounds interesting. He said that he lived here before he came to Berk?”

She nodded. “We were talking about surnames.”

It might have been a good sign that they were starting to get to words that Hiccup could not easily explain, or it might have been a sign that he wasn’t getting so good at thinking of explanations. The sleet had let off a bit, enough for gaps to appear in the clouds, but now another gust of wind whipped more flakes into Hiccup and sent him staggering sideways into Astrid. She righted him without missing a step and he set his eyes on just getting home without falling on his backside again.

Gobber had already got the fire going inside, and it was wonderfully warm from the moment that Elsa opened the front door. Toothless wormed between them to be the first one in, running over to lick Gobber hello.

“Oh, get down, you slavering fiend.” Gobber pushed Toothless down again, soft-palmed. “I don’t fancy a flammable chin.”

“Did you, er,” Hiccup stood in the doorway and sort of nodded inside, speaking to Astrid. From the corner of his eye, he saw Elsa glance between them and then slip inside without a word. “I mean, did you want to come in for a while? Wait for a gap in the weather?”

“I’m good, thanks.” Astrid took hold of his sleeve and tugged him towards her. Trying to react appropriate this time, Hiccup tilted his face to hers, aiming for a kiss, only for Astrid to punch him lightly in the centre of the chest and back away, laughing. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“I can’t win,” said Hiccup to himself, watching her go. He shook his head, then went into the house and gave the door a nudge with one crutch to send it swinging closed once again. It was stuffier inside, certainly, but it was warm and dry and after a while your eyes adjusted to the lower light. “Really, bud?” he asked Toothless, who was nosing around in the fire and making sparks puff out. “Is that necessary?”

“Probably got his nose cold flying,” said Gobber. He gently tucked his hook under Toothless’s chin and raised him out of the flames. “Still can’t believe it. Never seen a dragon without some sort of horn before.”

Toothless murred, and flared his plates slightly, then shook the cinders off his nose and hopped up to hang from one of the beams. Every time it happened, Hiccup felt his heart in his throat for a moment, half-expecting the house to crash down around them, but apparently the building was made of sterner stuff than that.

“So, Gobber.” Hiccup dropped down onto the bench and set about taking his boot off. At least those were going to be cheaper. “Can we talk prosthetics?”

Gobber sighed. “Look, I remember what it’s like to be frustrated, but this isn’t something for me or even your father. This is Gothi’s rules.”

“No, I know I’ve got another half a moon yet,” he said. It was taking all of his strength of will not to start marking off the days on the wall. “But can I at least start designing it?”

Lifting up his own wooden leg, Gobber rapped it with his knuckles. “If you’ve not noticed, we’re pretty practiced at new legs.”

“I know,” said Hiccup, “but I was wondering... about metal.”

“Too heavy,” said Gobber promptly.

“Not if you slimmed it right down. I’m not worried whether or not it _looks_ like a foot. Everyone knows that I’ve lost one, and once Johann comes round again it’ll be all around the islands. If it isn’t already.” Goodness knew how Johann heard some of the things that he did, but the man was the biggest gossip in the archipelago and couldn’t keep a secret if his life depended on it. “Besides, if I’m going to be around dragons, wouldn’t metal be a bit more fireproof?”

“I hope you’re not planning on getting yourself burned again,” said Gobber gruffly, but there was a concerned look in his eye.

Hiccup gave him a look of what he hoped was exasperation, not pleading. “No, I’ve just... I’ve been having ideas again! You know what I’m like for ideas.”

“Well, that’s true,” Gobber said, nodding. “You realise that metal won’t do against your skin, though. Too hard to get the fit right.”

“Maybe we could do a wooden socket, and then the metal for the actual leg,” said Hiccup, starting to warm to his theme. Too many hours in bed had not exactly helped to calm his already over-active imagination. “And I’m going to need some way to use that leg to control Toothless.”

“You can’t swap the mechanics over? Run it to the other foot?”

For a moment, the thought was tempting. It would mean that he and Toothless could fly again, just the two of them, without having to wait for Hiccup’s prosthetic to get sorted out. But he wasn’t sure that it was possible. “I wouldn’t want to run the gears across his tail. Too much risk of hurting him again.”

Gobber surveyed Hiccup for a moment longer, then got to his feet. “All right then. I’ll get you a slate.”

He could have punched the air in victory.

 

 

 

 

 

Stoick reappeared at around sunset, so soaked that even his beard was starting to droop. When he took off his boots, he paused on the step to wring them out, and left wet footprints on his way to sit beside the fire.

“And what mischief are you up to now?” he asked warily, eyeing the slate in Hiccup’s hands. Hiccup had automatically clutched it to his chest as if he was secretly working on Toothless’s tail again, and lowered it back to his lap with a sheepish look.

“Just working on a design.”

Gobber emerged from the pantry, unceremoniously dumping a bucket at Elsa’s feet and handing her the basket of sweet chestnuts. “We’ve been talking over that new leg. Thought it might be worth having two minds on it.”

“Oh. Well, that does sound wise.” Stoick leant over to look at Hiccup’s current sketch, which was frankly on the scribbly side just at the moment, and nodded as if he had the faintest clue what Hiccup’s notes about compression characteristics and metal temperatures meant. Unlike other legs with their fixed ankles, Hiccup wanted to build some give into his, a slight flexibility that would hopefully work more naturally and be better on uneven ground. “Looks good.”

Curling up to sit cross-legged, Elsa pulled the basket into her lap and started to shell and peel them. Hiccup was about to apologise for getting distracted by his work again when he remembered that he still had not spoken to her about sleeping beside Toothless, and he almost swore aloud. It probably would have been a better idea to have that conversation at an earlier point in the day, before the house filled up again.

“How did the contract go?” said Hiccup, as Stoick ran his hand over his forehead. “That bad?”

“I hope the Svenson boy knows what he’s getting himself in for, that’s all I can,” replied Stoick. “The Odourgard girl nearly won her year in the arena, after all.” His eyes flicked over to Toothless, still hanging from one of the beams and snoring softly, then embarrassment flooded his features. “I mean, you know...”

“It still means she can handle herself,” said Hiccup. He was trying to figure out how to get a pedal that could be used easily with a metal foot, but which wouldn’t involve being locked in. He couldn’t heel-and-toe the way that he had before, even if he did still have his knee. “And hey, it’ll make the boar hunts seem easier.”

“It’s been a while since we’ve had a good boar hunt,” Gobber said. He grabbed one of the raw sweet chestnuts and popped it into his mouth. “The males’ll be feisty at this time of year, though. Mating season’s always the worst.”

“True, but it means we might get some males with the groups,” pointed out Stoick. “We could do with some good tusks for carving.”

Elsa leant across the bench to talk in an undertone to Hiccup. “Sorry, what is ‘mating’?”

His mouth refused to work. Hiccup stared into the fire, vaguely aware that his father and Gobber were still talking about boars on one side and that Elsa was looking at him curiously from the other, and absolutely unable to find an answer.

“We’ll, uh, how about we talk about that tomorrow,” he said finally. He might have to get Astrid to help him out on this one. There were some words that he really didn’t have to be the one to explain and... well, Elsa hadn’t been here for a full moon yet. He certainly didn’t want to be the one to have those sort of female-specific conversations. “It’s something that animals do.”

Frowning, Elsa sat back and resumed her work on the chestnuts. When Hiccup looked down at his work again, he realised with a sigh that he had drawn a huge line right across the middle of the slate, and licked his thumb to set about rubbing it out again. Ankle was so much easier than this.

By the time that they got round to dinner, Stoick was warming to his usual topic of food supplies, alternating between grumbling about how little they had and talking with relief that they were finally building up stores before winter proper started to set in. “Hopefully the weather will hold out long enough,” he added on a regular basis.

Hiccup needed to close the shutter on his window more and more often. He wasn’t too sure.

“So, what did you usually eat in the winter, Elsa?” said Gobber, managing to get everyone at the table to look round to him at the same time. Even Toothless, who had been waiting hopefully next to Hiccup’s chair, popped his head over the edge of the table to see what the fuss was about. “You must know a few tricks.”

“I was alone,” she said cautiously. “I did not feed many.”

“Doesn’t matter. I’d be interested to hear.”

Attention still seemed to discomfort Elsa a little, but other than a pause to take a deep breath she held together well. Hiccup knew that she was happier spending most of her time listening, rather than talking.

“I ate mushrooms,” said Elsa. “ _Rostopan_ , _aakanteran_ , _esteropan_...” she looked across to Hiccup, who just shrugged.

Gobber pushed more bread in her direction. “Don’t fret, we know mushrooms. Next time we find some, we’ll figure out what’s what. “Did you fish?” He mimed casting a rod.

It had taken Hiccup a while to figure out how to explain that fish was both a noun and a verb, but they had actually managed it. Elsa hid a smile behind her hand for a moment. “A little. Sometimes I had a net. I pick _lamusan_ , though.” As if in response to Gobber’s own actions, she mimed opening and closing with her hands. “From river.”

Gobber looked over to Stoick, and shrugged. “We could see to gathering more shellfish this year. We don’t have to worry about defending the beach any more.”

“There’ll be nothing there for a few years,” replied Stoick with a shake of his head. “Even if we did take down the defences, the shellfish won’t come back yet. Besides, just because the dragons are gone doesn’t mean we can forget the people.”

Hiccup, meanwhile, had sketched out a mussel shell on his slate and showed it to Elsa beneath the table. She tilted her head to examine it, shook her head, and held out a hand for the chalk instead. The movements of her hand were a little unsteady, not used to handle a slate and chalk no doubt, but she sketched out a reasonable shell beneath Hiccup’s own attempt.

“Oh,” he said, realisation dawning. “Clams, right? That’s a clam.”

“I mean, we’re not having to feed the dragons at the arena any more, either,” Gobber was saying in the background.

“No, but I’ve seen how much the Night Fury eats,” said Stoick, gesturing to Toothless. Toothless looked at him hopefully at the name of his species. “I can’t imagine the others aren’t getting through just as much.”

“They could catch their own food now,” suggested Hiccup. Both men looked at him in surprise. “I mean, they eat fish, right? I’m sure there would be some way to let them know that they could hunt by themselves.” Having seen the way that they acted around the others, he was even fairly sure that the dragons would actually come back again. “I mean, are they not doing that already?”

“No idea what the Zippleback’s been up to,” said Gobber, “but the others haven’t flown out of sight the village other than to go with you lot up to the arena. I think they’re sticking close to those friends of yours.”

It was something of a novel feeling to even think of the others as being his friends, but Hiccup couldn’t help feeling warmth at the idea of it. Knowing that they were starting to bond with the dragons – enough that the dragons must presumably feel somewhat safe around them – just made it better.

“Well, maybe that will help matters even more,” he said to his father.

Stoick paused for a moment, then nodded. There was hope yet.

 

 

 

 

 

For lack of anything really approaching privacy in the house – his father and Gobber had the downstairs bedroom, the most solid and quiet, while Hiccup’s room was practically open to the downstairs and the workshop had just been partitioned off with a curtain for Elsa – Hiccup waited until Gobber excused himself to the outhouse and Stoick went to fill the bucket from the well before sliding closer to Elsa on the bench again.

“Hey, Elsa, can I have a word?”

She frowned at him. He was going to have to learn to stop with the rhetoric.

“I mean, I need to talk to you. About sleeping next to Toothless. I understand if you want to, so do you want me to try to get him to sleep downstairs or something?” It all came out a little hurriedly, and he paused to let Elsa process before trying again. “I mean, not in my room. You... you can’t sleep in my room.”

“Did I wake you? I am sorry, I did not mean to.”

He almost said that if she had, it would have been easier, but then he found himself wondering how exactly he would have dealt with that in the middle of the night. He wasn’t sure that he would have done too well, to be fair. “No, it’s not that. It’s...” he groaned to himself. Without really thinking about it, his hand crept down to rub at his left knee, where the remaining burns were starting to fade to smoother scarring now. “It’s not really _appropriate_ for you to be in my room.”

“Appropriate means... good? Wise?”

“Well, sort of, I suppose.” At least explaining words was easier than explaining why his father was fussing so. “If something is appropriate, then if other people know they’d think it’s a good thing. If it’s inappropriate...”

“If people knew, they would think it is a bad thing,” finished Elsa. She glanced aside for a moment, then her eyes widened and she looked round sharply enough that he was pretty sure she had just worked it out. “Your father thinks...?”

“Probably.”

“So he is worried about my unholy wildling charms,” she said.

Hiccup choked and started coughing. Concern on her face, Elsa reached out to pat him on the back, but he waved her away and tried to regain his composure. “Wh–” for a moment, he could not even say it. “Who – who taught you that phrase?”

Words like _breakfast_ and _sorry_ might have been easy enough to slip by, but Hiccup was pretty sure that he would have remembered saying that.

“Ruffnut,” replied Elsa. Her tone was innocent, but the corner of her mouth twitched just slightly. Starting to suspect that she knew more than she was letting on about the term, Hiccup narrowed his eyes slightly. “Actually, she was asking me to teach them to her.”

“Oh, gods...” Hiccup put one hand to his face, and wasn’t even sure or not it was a good thing that the door opened and Gobber reappeared just at that particular moment. “That’s... no, Elsa. No. Let’s not say that.”

“Everything all right?” said Gobber.

“Fine!” replied Hiccup, too fast and too loud and unable to do anything else. “We’re fine. We’re just... fine, yes.” He took a deep breath, and tried to smile at Elsa. She was smiling now, just enough for him to suspect that she knew full well what she had just said. Or at least enough to know why Hiccup was still trying not to choke. “So, do you want me to get Toothless to sleep downstairs?”

“No, it is fine,” said Elsa. The smile slipped away again. “I just had... how do you say it?” she waved a hand at head-height. “When I sleep, I see bad things.”

“Nightmares?”

Her lips moved as she shaped the words, then she nodded. “ _Paanijan_. I think so.”

Hiccup winced. “Sorry.”

Once again, Elsa shrugged, reaching up to push stray hair out of her face, and looked across into the embers of the fire. “It happens. Not your wrong.”

Part of him wanted to promise that he would stop the nightmares, but he knew it was something that he could not say. He just wished that he could. The best that Hiccup could do was reach over and rest his hand on hers gently, until she smiled a little again. And decide that if he did find Elsa in his room again, he’d just make sure that his father didn’t find out about it.

 

 

 

 

 

Not everyone liked the dragons, but it was fast becoming apparent that most people were willing to give them a chance. Sometimes, like when Hookfang stretched his wings and yawned widely, people would jump aside and reach for weapons, but they would catch themselves again and remember that there was peace now, and no reason for them to attack these dragons.

If the adult dragons were friendly with Hiccup and his friends, and calm around everyone else, the babies were the darlings of the village. They were getting a little big to sit on Fishlegs’s shoulders but tried to do so anyway, and he took them everywhere with him. People rapidly became used to them, and even started giving them scraps or fish that were too small to be of worth. Hiccup watched from the top of the steep paths that led down to the wharves, and smiled.

Three days after the village meeting, Bloodbeard demanded the right to leave the island. It was not unheard of for people to want to leave, usually after one loss too many, one too many hard winters when hunger gnawed at your stomach, but nobody doubted what this was about.

“You may go,” said Stoick, in what Hiccup couldn’t help but think of as his declarations voice, down on the wharves with most of the fishing folk around and even children running around, half the village within hearing range. “But you cannot speak of this place. Of the peace with the dragons.”

“You don’t want me spreading your message?” said Bloodbeard, with a sneer that Hiccup could hear even from up on the cliffs.

But Stoick stared him down. “I don’t trust you to speak the truth. I won’t stop you from leaving, Bloodbeard. You, nor anybody else,” he added, looking around him to make sure the message was clear. By evening, it would probably be all around the village. “But for all of the years that you called yourself a Berkian, I will ask for your silence.”

It surprised Hiccup that Bloodbeard agreed at all, even if it was with poor grace.

The first ships out sailed the next morning, but of the hundreds of people on the island only a handful wished to go. Hiccup just hoped that they would be the last people that the island lost to dragons.

A punch in the arm bought him back to the moment as he watched the sails move off, and he jumped. It shouldn’t have been a surprise to see Astrid standing next to him. “You were a long way away,” she said.

“Yeah, sorry. Just... thinking. Where’s Elsa?”

“Gobber was talking about trying to set up an icehouse. He’s trying to talk Elsa into it.”

Hiccup grimaced. It was good that people didn’t see Elsa’s power as dangerous, but she didn’t seem to want to acknowledge it more than was necessary, and he was happier respecting that. He hoped that Gobber didn’t get too pushy about trying to get her to help. “He does realise he’s on Berk, right? Our _houses_ are icehouses come the winter.”

“Maybe having dragons will warm them up a bit.”

“Keep saying that, and you might talk people round.” Turning his back on the distant sails, Hiccup started back towards the village. Astrid fell into step beside him. “Have Frog and Pig _finally_ named those Gronckles, then?”

“Yes, and they want to tell you themselves.”

“Why do I need to know?” He went to gesture with his hands, but caught himself just in time. Crutches might be doing to replace his leg, but they were doing so at the cost of both arms, which did not help in the slightest. “And don’t you dare use the words Dragon Master.”

No matter what he tried to do or so, the phrase had taken root and was now growing pretty solidly. Some of the children in the village even had a new game called dragon master, which involved one of them being Hiccup and the other ones being dragons that he had to tame. Apparently there were arguments over who got to be the Night Fury.

Astrid just looked at him pointedly. He wasn’t even sure whether he wanted to laugh or not. “All right, fine. I’ll come and find out what the names of the hatchlings are.”

The village had finished rebuilding now, even the roof of the storehouses mostly finished where they had stripped out the dragon skins and replaced it with wood and tar. Stoick had been concerned about how flammable the combination was, but Hiccup promised that he would get the others to keep their dragons away from it until it had cured and set, and they could look towards getting slates on for the real snows of the winter. While there was still food to be gathered or hunted or fished, the village had more pressing matters to attend to. They could see to the roof even during the winter.

“I feel bad leaving Elsa with Gobber so much. I mean, not because it’s Gobber, just because it’s _always_ Gobber,” he added quickly. “But you know what everyone was like.” They would not stop asking questions, even when Elsa became visibly uncomfortable with the twins asking her to do ‘the awesome ice thing’ again and Fishlegs starting to get interested in her magic in general.

“Maybe you should ask them to back off.”

“Yeah, that’ll work,” said Hiccup. It sounded more like a grand way to get them to ask more questions, if he was quite honest.

Astrid stepped in front of him so sharply that he almost bumped into her. “Or,” she said, crossing her arms. “You could talk to Elsa about whether she wants to answer the questions.”

“I could see that she didn’t.”

“But why? Because they were all asking at the same time? Because there were so many of them? She felt comfortable enough talking to you,” said Astrid. Hiccup tried to go around her, but she just sidestepped back into his way again. “So why not us?”

“Well, maybe I don’t bombard her with multiple questions in a row,” replied Hiccup pointedly. Astrid looked unimpressed, and this time he feinted to the right before dodging left and around her.

“Hey!”

“Look,” he sighed. “I’ll talk to Elsa, all right? And maybe she will be all right talking to you one at a time. But people have _tried to kill her_ over her magic. Since she was _eight_. I don’t blame her for not wanting to talk about it.”

Astrid fell back into step beside him. “But...?”

“ _But_... I wish that she could spend time with you guys as well.” Actually having friends was turning out to be a pretty amazing experience. It wasn’t that Hiccup had been actively ostracised over the years – his on-running fight with Snotlout might have edged close to that category, but didn’t quite make it – but he had never really been one of them. Suddenly, he not only _was_ one of them, but they were acting like he was the leader just because he had some actual experience with a dragon. “It’s got to be pretty lonely, just talking to me or Gobber or my Dad. And you occasionally, but still.”

Still three more people than when she had been in the cove, as well, but it didn’t seem at all fair that Elsa should be restricted like that at all.

“I just... I want her to be able to be normal.”

“Does she want that?”

Some things were more easily explained to some people than to others. Astrid might have known what it was like to be an only child, but Hiccup seriously doubted that she knew what it was like to be even at the edge of your own society, let alone completely excluded from it. “The only people who have never wanted to be normal are those who already are.”

She elbowed him in the ribs. “Deep.”

“Ha ha,” he said. “But, no, not necessarily being normal. I just want her to be able to talk to people without it constantly being about her magic.”

“Like how people can talk to you without it constantly being without dragons?” Hiccup rolled his eyes, but Astrid did not look in the least bit repentant. “What? I’m just saying. They’re just interested, they’re not going to attack her. And maybe if you talk to her then that’ll be clearer.”

“Is this what having a sibling is like?” he asked, as they came into sight of the Ingerman house. “Because it sucks.”

Astrid laughed, and Hiccup shook his head but couldn’t help a smile at the sight of Fishlegs and both of his sisters out front with the Gronckles. Piglegs was holding the purple Gronckle in one arm, while the green one was chasing Froglegs back and forth in figures of eight around her siblings.

“Hey, you guys,” he said. He was never quite sure how to act around children younger than him, because they could usually still beat him up. Something – either the crutches or his peculiar newfound status – was at least protecting him from that nowadays. “I heard that we’ve got some new names around here.”

Froglegs stopped and caught her hatchling from the air, and the girls exchanged a look and a wicked smile. “Yes,” said Piglegs finally. She presented the purple Gronckle with a flourish. “Meet Skyfire.”

“And Silversnap.” Froglegs stepped forwards and thrust her Gronckle only inches from Hiccup’s face, where it dribbled slightly and fluttered its wings.

Names and riders and food that was given, not stolen. For such a little thing, Hiccup found himself grinning widely, and he passed one crutch to the other hand so that he could reach up and scratch Silversnap under the chin. “Well, it’s good to meet you both. Does Meatlug approve of the names?”

“Uh-huh,” said Piglegs seriously. “We asked her.”

Hiccup glanced over to Meatlug, who took the opportunity to eat one of the rocks from the ground beside them. He had only been meaning to tease. “Well, that’s... very good. Always good to have permission.”

“Can we write the names in the Book of Dragons?” said Froglegs. “I’ve been practicing.”

“Me too!”

“Shut up, Pig. Your writing is awful.”

“It’s better than yours.”

“Wait, what?” He looked over to Fishlegs, who was studying the clouds overhead far more intently than they deserved. “Did I miss something?”

“I may have said that since we were going to be working on the Book of Dragons anyway that we could maybe start writing down the dragon names and lineages and that they could maybe write down the names of their dragons,” said Fishlegs, all in one tumultuous breath.

Hiccup winced. “Yeah, about that... Gobber’s copy went to Dragon Island, remember? We might be able to get new parchment from Johann come spring, or get some in the culling season, but even my journal is in the most ridiculously small writing to–”

“Oh, that’s fine,” Fishlegs said. “I’ve already got a blank book set aside for it. I figured that you’d probably want to start almost from scratch, seeing as how there’s so much more to be added in...”

At first, Hiccup just opened and closed his mouth a couple of times, waiting for some intelligent remark to make itself apparent. Gobber hadn’t been angry about the loss of his copy of the Book, more resigned; his great-grandmother had been Bork’s only daughter to survive to adulthood, and the copy he gave her on her wedding was the origin of the tradition. ‘But now we can start a new tradition,’ Gobber had said, clapping Hiccup on the back with his good hand. ‘With new knowledge. Just as long as you do me a new copy once it’s done.’

In the end, he could only think of one response. “Thank you. And... yes, certainly, you can put the names of the dragons in. I suppose it is all about them, after all.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The note about Toothless being the only dragon without a horn comes from additional material on the HTTYD DVD. He was deliberately designed that way, to make him look different from the other dragons.


	17. Chapter 17

The day that he finally got his leg, he was so excited that he could hardly sleep. It was like being a kid at Snoggletog again, even if he’d been watching Gobber put it together and even getting shooed out of the smithy for wanting to see how it was going at odd hours. As soon as the edges of the window grew even slightly lighter, and he could claim that it was morning, he threw off his blanket and sat up, reaching for the flint and steel to light the candle at his bedside. At first it refused to light, then finally the wick caught and the room got just a little bit brighter.

Toothless’s head was already up, eyes bright. He huffed something that Hiccup had come to think of as ‘good morning’, and Hiccup smiled. “You too, bud.”

As his eyes adjusted, Hiccup realised that Toothless had spread one wing over his side again, rather than furling them as he usually did. Sighing, Hiccup gestured upwards with one hand, and Toothless obediently raised the wing and tucked it back to his side. Hiccup was not even surprised to see Elsa curled up against the dragon’s side again, frowning in her sleep and shifting as the cooler air reached her.

What Stoick did not know would not hurt him. He was more worried about Elsa, and what had driven her back to Toothless’s side again.

“Come on, bud,” he said. He gestured to Elsa again, and Toothless cocked his head curiously before snorting and reaching round to nuzzle Elsa’s hair. She stirred, but did not wake up, until Toothless nudged harder and she gasped and jerked upright. “Whoa!” said Hiccup, as loudly as he dared in a house where sound carried so much. “It’s all right. It’s just us.”

Elsa looked around almost wildly, one hand raised, until her eyes came to rest on Hiccup. Her fingers were shaking as she curled her hand back to her chest again. “I am sorry,” she said. There was a note of desperation in her voice, and she shrank back against Toothless. “I should not be here. I will go.”

“Elsa,” he said hurriedly, as she got to her feet, “it’s fine. It’s just my Dad being... well, my Dad. I don’t mind. And it doesn’t look like Toothless does either.”

Toothless brushed against Elsa’s back with his wing and chirped. She stroked his cheek absently. “You are sure?”

“Just don’t let my Dad know. Or Gobber. He can’t keep a secret.”

Somehow he had gone from secret wildling in the woods to secret wildling in his room. Hiccup wasn’t really sure how he got himself into these situations. With a grateful look, Elsa curled back against Toothless’s side again, and the dragon lowered his wing over her. Hiccup shook his head, but smiled all the same, and shuffled down to the end of his bed where his clothes chest had been put within easier reach so he could dress.

Stairs were easy now, as long as he concentrated while he was going down them. Tongue poking out of the corner of his mouth, Hiccup made his way down, poked open the shutters on the small windows either side of the door, and banged on the door to the downstairs bedroom with the end of one crutch. “Good morning!” he called out.

The immediate response was a groan and cursing, probably from his father and Gobber respectively. “Go back to bed, Hiccup,” said Gobber. “It’s not morning yet.”

“The sky is getting brighter, and I think that counts as morning,” he replied, a little more loudly than necessary. “Want to come and check?”

“For Odin’s sake,” said his father. “Could you not have waited a few hours?”

“I’ve been waiting over a moon.”

“Aye, so a few more hours shouldn’t have been a problem,” grumbled Gobber. Hiccup leant back against the wall and waited for the inevitable. “Fine. Go on, Stoick.”

There it was.

“Why me?”

“He’s your son.”

“It’s your leg.”

Hiccup examined his nails, and picked out a bit of dirt from beneath one of them. “I can go and fetch Gothi myself, if you’d rather.”

“That I’d like to see,” said Gobber, but nonetheless Hiccup could hear someone getting out of bed. If it hadn’t worked he probably would have just seen if Astrid was awake and gotten her to fly them up to Gothi instead. Perhaps they should have known something just from the fact that Gothi was never attacked, on her little spire away from the rest of them, but they had put it down to there being no food up there save that which was sent up by basket.

Grinning, Hiccup picked his way into the larder and picked out some slightly old bread – only a bit stale – and some dried fish. He held the fish in his mouth and stuffed the bread under one arm as he made his way back to the table and sat down to wait and see who would emerge first.

Unsurprisingly, it was his father, still adjusting his belt. “Honestly. I’m sure that during the summer you had no interest in being up at dawn.”

That had mostly been because he had been out all night flying and talking to Elsa, but Hiccup was not going to point that out now. Instead he waited for Gobber, bleary-eyed, to emerge from the room as well. “Good morning to you too,” said Gobber, not sounding at all sincere.

“Can we go?” Hiccup grabbed for his crutches.

“Strange that by ‘we’,” said Stoick, “you mean those of us who will actually be going to fetch Gothi?” He was smiling faintly, though, as he straightened up his helmet. “Right, just let me wake Elsa and we’ll be good to go.”

He went to rap on the wood beside the curtain, and Hiccup almost jumped upright again. “No, no, we should probably let her sleep,” he said quickly. “She told me she’s been having nightmares. Best... let her sleep while she can.”

Stoick’s hand stopped just short of the frame, expression softening for a moment. “Aye, you’ve a point.” Instead, he patted the wood gently. “Come on, then. Let’s go get you a new leg.”

 

 

 

 

 

Gobber waited at the bottom of Gothi’s spire with Hiccup until Stoick bought her down, once again going over the story of how he had lost his own leg to a Nadder all those years ago. Hiccup could probably have recited himself by now, but at least it was a way to pass the time until Gothi unceremoniously grabbed Hiccup’s left leg, pushed his leggings aside to have a look at the state of the wound beneath, and nodded her approval. Only the fact that he was still struggling to balance on one leg with the other one hoisted up in the air stopped Hiccup from doing some sort of silly hop about with glee.

They returned to the smithy to retrieve the leg itself, and Hiccup was ushered round back to take a seat on a box while Gobber went to fetch it. Gothi unrolled her calfskin and scattered the sand on it, then began tracing lines back and forth even as Hiccup and Stoick glanced at each other uncertainly. Even Stoick had not managed to figure out how to understand Gothi’s form of writing.

She was finishing just as Gobber reappeared, and automatically walked round to interpret. “She asks if you’ve been taking care of your leg properly.”

“Well,” said Hiccup, “I had a forgetful moment a little over a moon ago and managed to misplace part of it, but – ow!”

Gothi’s staff made a hearty crack on his knuckles. He snatched his hand away, vaguely offended, as she gave him a rather effective evil eye.

“Yes, I’ve been taking care of it,” he said. “Fresh bandages, checking the wound, everything. You saw yourself.”

She produced fresh bandages and a clean woollen sock from one of the pouches at her waist and handed them over, then gestured for Gobber to give her the leg. As she examined it, Hiccup rubbed the bandages between thumb and forefinger experimentally. They were thinner than the ones he had been using, the wool finer and softer to the touch. Then again, he was hopefully not going to actually bleed on these ones. He set to work bandaging right up to his knee, making sure that so far as possible there were two even, smooth layers, then slipping on the sock over the top. His hands were shaking, he realised, though it was not from the least touch of fear.

Gothi drew something out on her sand. “I know,” said Gobber, “but it’s him as has to live with it.”

Surprisingly, the leg looked just as Hiccup had pictured it; either his sketching skills were improving, or Gobber had actually been more concerned than usual about making sure his work looked like Hiccup’s design. It had a wooden socket that would hopefully be easier to reshape over time and give him a year or two before he needed a complete new one, but the main body was a squared –off metal rod attached to a stiff spring that should give him the feeling of actually having an ankle still.

He remained a sensible, patient adult and did not snatch the leg out of Gobber’s hands, nor interrupt as the older man showed him how to buckle the leather straps that would hold the whole thing in place.

“Remember,” said Gobber, “firm, not tight. We can always adjust it a bit.”

“I know,” he said impatiently. “Can I stand up now?”

“Onto your right leg first,” said Gobber, reaching out a hand to help him up. “Then onto your left.”

“I remember how to walk.”

“Not with that you don’t.”

Stoick did not speak, but there might just have been flickers of concern in his eyes as Hiccup took a good hold of Gobber’s hand and stood up, all of his weight on his right foot as he had been told. He put his left foot to the ground and felt a burst of elation at the sense of having a foot at all, even if it was metal instead of flesh and bone. It was strange around his knee and what remained of his lower leg, like pressing right on the point of his elbow, but it was a foot, and that was what mattered.

He slowly let go of Gobber’s hand and spread his arms for balance, shifting until his weight felt about evenly spread. Standing, he thought, with two free hands. Hiccup laughed with delight, then felt his balance go and pinwheeled his arms in the air until he grabbed Gobber’s arm to steady himself again. “I swear I could stand up two moons ago,” he muttered.

“You’re doing grand,” said Stoick. His voice sounded a little uneven, and Hiccup didn’t dare look round for fear of what expression he might see on his father’s face. “Don’t you worry.”

“Just work on standing for now,” said Gobber, reading Gothi’s drawings over one shoulder. “Walking itself will take some more practice... I could have told him that.”

Gothi waved her staff threateningly.

“All right, all right, I’m sorry. But some of us do remember what it’s like to lose our first limb you kn– all right! So, are we going to try getting you home?”

That sounded a little bit more challenging than standing still, Hiccup had to say. He gave Gobber a look of panic and tensed everything so as not to wobble. Surely standing up hadn’t taken this much of his body before.

“With the crutches,” said Stoick.

“All right, that actually sounds like a possibility,” admitted Hiccup. He carefully transferred one of his arms over to the crutches, then the other, and Gobber stepped back completely to leave him actually standing once again. He tested his new foot against the ground; the spring gave only slightly, about as much as he had intended it to. It should help on uneven ground, even if it was going to make things harder in the meantime. And, the best part, the toe of the foot should slot into the new stirrup for Toothless’s wing and actually let them fly once again.

He squared his shoulders and took a deep breath. The smithy was not far from the house, after all.

“All right, then. Let’s do this.”

Elsa was awake by the time that they got back, sitting on the front step and throwing scraps of fish into the air for Toothless to catch. It was still early enough that most people were only just starting to stir, and they had not acquired the sort of audience that this would have garnered during the evenings.

“Look!” Hiccup couldn’t help saying triumphantly. “Feet! Plural!”

She laughed, and threw the last piece of fish so high into the air that Toothless sprung up onto his hind legs to catch it. Brushing her hands on her skirt, Elsa got to her feet and looked Hiccup up and down. “It looks good.”

He grinned. Toothless padded over, and Hiccup paused to let him have a sniff, even raising his left crutch off the ground so that he can have a better look. “Check it out, bud. We’ll be flying again in no time.”

“Maybe let’s go for walking first, hmm?” said Stoick, patting him on the shoulder. Knowing how long it tended to take for people to get walking again with a new leg, however, Hiccup had his suspicions that flying would be the part he managed more quickly. He didn’t say so, however, just smiled at Toothless and waggled his new foot.

“So,” said Gobber, “are we finally going to look to getting you some breakfast?”

“I think I can handle that.”

 

 

 

 

 

It seemed only fair to wait until after nightfall before sneaking out of the house again. It was harder to put on the prosthetic without being able to really see what he was doing, and he almost put it on back to front the first time around, but the wood fit so well that he could feel when it was right, and the buckles were really the most difficult part.

“Toothless,” he hissed, and heard a rumble in response. “Come on, let’s go.”

He pulled Toothless’s saddle out from under the bed and tucked it under his left arm. He had to cling to the wall, first, and then switch to the bannister to make his way downstairs, metal leg first then the good leg following. Toothless crept down behind him, almost silent.

Getting the front door open was a bit harder without being able to put any muscle behind it. Toothless nudged his face in and finished opening the door for Hiccup, who pulled it closed again behind them.

“Thanks, bud. Come on.” He knelt down to put on the saddle, connecting it up and pressing the pedal with his hand to make sure that the tail still worked. Gobber had even had new fins made up, both in sturdy wool but one pale grey and one near-black, and the sight of it by the moonlight made Hiccup smile all over again. “All right.”

He stood on his good leg to swing his left over the saddle and into place. It was hard to manoeuvre, like trying to control a foot that had already gone to sleep, but by watching carefully he was able to slot it into place and feel the click as it settled in. Pushing down, he heard the tail flare, and felt Toothless tense as if to fly.

“Woah, hang on,” he said, putting a hand on the back of Toothless’s neck. “Let me make sure I can close it again.” It was no good if he got the tail stuck in position six and couldn’t come in to land again. Pulling the tail closed again was a different sensation, tugging slightly on the end of his leg, but a glance over his shoulder confirmed that the tail had done exactly what it was supposed to. “All right, bud. Let’s... take this gently, though.”

He opened up the tail, and they took off. It was all in a breath, the whoosh and the wind in his hair and the slow pulsing movements of Toothless’s wings beneath and beside him. Berk and the rest of the world fell away beneath him and the night sky swallowed them up, away from the smell of people and animals and fires and into the clean fresh air and the trailing mists of clouds.

It didn’t matter that it wasn’t one of their flights that seemed to burn through the sky and tear it into pieces. Just the feel of the air beneath them, the tail moving at his command and with barely even a conscious thought. Moving the tail by pushing down or pulling up might have been different to the heel-and-toe method which he was used to, but it wasn’t any harder, and the tail positions were still the same. It was just as effortless as before.

“How is it that flying is easier than walking?” he said at one point, not expecting an answer from either Toothless or the wind but unable to help voicing it. It had taken him so long to really get the hang of flying, until it became the most natural thing in the world, but now it came more easily than putting one foot in front of the other. Easier than standing still, frankly.

Even if there were people still awake, they would not be able to see Toothless against the night sky, unless it was as a faint shadow blocking out the stars for a moment. Easy to dismiss as a cloud. It felt like spreading his own wings again, in a way that flying with someone else had not, and in a way that he suspected flying on a different dragon could never be.

They did not fly for long, just enough to feel the sky again. It was starting to snow as they landed back behind the house, waited to be sure that there was nobody looking out of any nearby windows, and made their way around to the front. Hiccup climbed down once they were at the front step and knelt to remove Toothless’s saddle and harness once again. His muscles ached, but in the best of ways, and he finally felt like he could sleep without things feeling unfinished.

He turned around and went to grab the doorframe again, only to realise that he door was open and, worse, someone was standing in the doorway. Apologies sprang to his lips, but his brain finally caught up with his eyes and he realised that it was Elsa, smiling fondly.

“Hello,” he said sheepishly.

“It is good to see you fly again,” she said, holding out a hand. “Do you want help?”

“If you could take this,” he handed her the saddle, “that would be great, thanks.”

“And you did not fall off.”

“Indeed I did not.” He wasn’t sure whether or not he was justified in feeling proud of himself for that, all things considered. The number of times he had fallen in the pool back at the cove, or tumbled off on some particularly badly-timed landing, meant that even a basic flight without incident felt like a success. He could cope on crutches for now, he realised, just so long as he could fly again. Elsa reached up to rub at her cheek, and Hiccup cocked his head to look at her. “Nightmares again?”

Her smile faded, and she shrugged delicately. “I always have.”

He wasn’t sure if she was struggling with tenses again, or if she was trying to say that her nightmares were a constant thing. Or even if he should ask. “I dream about the Red Death sometimes,” he admitted, for want of knowing what else to do. “The fire. I don’t know if I’m going to wake up with a leg or not... or a leg that’s on fire again.”

It had come back in his dreams, first, searing pain and melting flesh, the air around him so hot that he could not even draw breath to scream. Then Toothless’s wings, lit through with fire so that he could see the veins against the faint light, turning into the total blackness of unconsciousness. Somehow it had taken longer for him to remember it while he was still awake.

“You were being a hero,” said Elsa.

Hiccup frowned. “Who taught you that word?” She started laughing, stifled behind her hand, and he found himself struggling not to do the same. “Really, who taught you that?” Somehow, he didn’t think Ruffnut was to blame this time around. “I think my friends have been bad influences on you.”

“They aren’t sneaking out to fly,” Elsa pointed out. She reached out one hand to Toothless, who butted it softly with his nose and then lifted his chin for her to scratch underneath.

“Again, beside the point.” His leg was starting to ache again and, despite the rush of flying, he needed to sleep. “Will you be all right tonight?”

There was only the most minute of hesitations before Elsa nodded. “I am fine.”

“All right,” said Hiccup. Elsa stepped aside to let him into the house again, and Toothless followed. Suddenly the stairs looked awfully high, but he supposed that the only way he was going to get used to the new leg was to make use of it. Gobber had already given him the ‘crash course’, including how to get up and down stairs, even if Stoick had been muttering that it wouldn’t be necessary yet. “Take care.”

“Do you want the saddle upstairs?” she nodded.

It probably would have been a good idea, but he didn’t quite feel up to seeing someone else climb the stairs with ease. “No, keep it down here tonight. It might stop me from going flying again.”

She laughed for a second time, softly, and drew up the saddle to her chest. “Good night, Hiccup.”

“Good night, Elsa.”

He waited until she was back beyond the curtain before looking round to the stairs and taking a deep breath. If the worst happened, he could always get Toothless to give him a helping hand. Or paw. Or however it worked with dragons. Maybe they could look to putting in a window big enough for Toothless to get in and out of, for that matter. Though he wouldn’t tell his father how he had come up with that particular idea.

 

 

 

 

 

It took all of his powers of charm and persuasion to get his father to allow him to officially go flying once again. By which Hiccup meant that he struck a bargain promising to practice walking for two hours a day before he was allowed to get Toothless’s saddle out from under his bed. On the other hand, having far fewer secrets in his life made it an awful lot easier to get enough sleep and still wake up early in the mornings, not only letting him practise walking first thing but also meaning that he could check under Toothless’s wing to be sure that Elsa hadn’t curled up there before his father actually woke up.

“Since when are you down to just a cane?” said Astrid, when he arrived at the arena one morning with the others waiting for him.

Hiccup grinned. “Since Meatlug a – argh!”

All right, so slopes were still something of an issue. Hiccup’s new foot refused to grip the wet slope properly, and he would have ended up on his rear again had Fishlegs not caught him under both armpits and held him upright.

“Thanks,” finished Hiccup.

Fishlegs deposited him at the bottom of the slope, and Hiccup dusted himself off with his left hand as Toothless hurried down to sniff him over.

“I’m all right, I’m good,” he said, brushing his hand over Toothless’s head. “Where was I? Oh, yeah. Meatlug ate one of my crutches. So I figured it was an appropriate time to learn to use the cane.”

“She didn’t mean to eat it,” said Fishlegs, not for the first time. From behind them, Meatlug gave an apologetic whine. “I was trying to teach her to play fetch.” He shook his head. “I still don’t get how she can eat fish _and_ rocks and wood. It just doesn’t make sense.”

“I told you, Gronckles must have several stomachs, I just don’t know whether there are multiple openings off the oesophagus or–”

“How long have they been doing this?” said Astrid, looking straight past both of them to Elsa.

“All the way from the village,” Elsa replied.

Astrid rolled her eyes, but Hiccup wasn’t letting this one drop. “Seriously, just let me look down her throat. Come on. We can solve this once and for all.”

“No!” Fishlegs moved to stand protectively in front of Meatlug. “She’s... sensitive.”

“I’m looking down her throat, Fishlegs, not up her skirt!” Hiccup protested, then realised exactly what he had said and turned to see that everyone else was wearing expressions that ran along the spectrum from bewilderment to amusement. “That sounded weirder than I meant it to.”

“No kidding,” said Snotlout. He was leaning against Hookfang’s shoulder, arms folded across his chest. “First you take ages to show up, then you talk about looking up dragon’s skirts.”

He had long since learnt that arguing with Snotlout did not produce any tangible results, and given it up as a bad job. “So, who actually wants to go flying today?” said Hiccup instead. The twins glanced at each other delightedly, and even Astrid looked intrigued. “I figured if we stuck to the west of the village, headed out towards the sea stacks, we wouldn’t have to worry about anyone being able to see us.”

“Why do I get the feeling you’ve flown out there before?” said Astrid.

Hiccup refused to dignify that with an answer. “Has everyone still got some rope to let them hold on? We can take off from the clearing out front again.”

As one, the twins turned to face each other and slammed their helmets together. That was generally a sign of approval. Even Snotlout, though he was clearly fighting not to show it, actually looked pleased by the suggestion.

Hiccup might have felt more pleased with himself if he had made the suggestion _before_ coming down the slope which he would now have to climb again. Then again, he had never claimed that forward planning was one of his specialities. At least Toothless was small enough to walk through the entranceway again fairly easily, compared to the larger dragons like Hookfang or Barf and Belch. He swung himself into the saddle and slipped his cane into the scabbard which he had strapped across his back.

“Really?” said Astrid, walking up beside him. When he looked round questioningly, she gestured to the scabbard.

“I figured it was better than trying to stuff it under my arm or something,” he shrugged. “Plus, it does look pretty cool, huh?”

Astrid raised an eyebrow.

“All right,” he said, moving on quickly. “Shall we get going? Elsa?”

He extended one hand to her. It had been made pretty clear that Toothless was more than strong enough to carry two people, and he wasn’t planning on recreating any of his more daring stunts anyway. Elsa hesitated, glancing round at the others.

Seeing an opportunity that probably wasn’t there, Snotlout patted Hookfang’s neck and grinned. “There’s always plenty of room aboard this beast.”

Apparently seeing the alternative was enough. Elsa took hold of Hiccup’s hand and climbed into place on the saddle behind him. It was somewhat tentative, but he still had the suspicion that was more to do with her magic than anything else. Even living in the warmth of an actual house had not done anything to stop her skin from feeling cold all of the time, nor the trollwort bracelets she still wore.

“All right,” Hiccup called, “we’re going to head outside, take off one by one, and then fly down to the sea stacks.” He gently nudged Toothless with one foot, and they started forwards. He doubted that this was at all like riding a horse or donkey, but it was the best comparison that he could make.

“Does your Dad know that we’re doing this?” said Fishlegs.

Technically not, but Hiccup didn’t see that it took any great stretch of the imagination to work it out. “He knows that I was planning on flying today, and he knows that you guys were meeting me at the arena. I’m sure he would have said something if he objected.”

That part, at least, was true. Stoick would have made it very clear if he objected to what was going on, and it was a lot easier for him to also do something about it now that he knew where Toothless’s tail was stored.

“Besides,” he couldn’t resist adding, “if you practice then you might not fall off so much.” As they reached the clear area outside, he pulled Elsa’s arm more tightly around his waist. “He’s stronger than Meatlug,” he warned her, and opened Toothless’s tail.

Toothless never needed to be told twice. His wings spread, and in a great pulse they were airborne, banking round sharply to face the others still standing on the grass outside, and hovering in place. Hiccup heard Elsa’s gasp behind him, and she reached up to grab hold of the metal ring in the centre of his chest and the strap connecting him to Toothless. Perhaps he should look to installing a second one of those on the back of the saddle.

“That is so awesome,” said Ruffnut, standing next to her apparently preferred head of the Zippleback.

“Come on!” called Hiccup. “Just take off and hover in this area. We’ll all fly together.”

Flying to Dragon Island had mostly been in a straight line, and it had still been a farce. They had been clinging to the dragons, weaving back and forth, dipping up and down, and it had probably cost them time. Only Stormfly had been anything like responsive, but Hiccup had felt her straining to fly again after so long in a pen. Hopefully all of the dragons would be stronger now.

Astrid was the first one up, shouting triumphantly as the Nadder sprung up into the sky. It took her a moment to rein the dragon back in and pull around so that she was a few yards away from Hiccup, slightly higher in the sky and with her wings working harder to keep them in place. Fishlegs was next, the Gronckle hatchlings practically in his lap and the steady movement of the Gronckle more under control than anything Hiccup had seen from the others so far. The twins just about managed to get off the ground, briefly turning away towards the arena before managing to bicker the dragon back in the right direction again.

“Come on, Snotlout!” shouted Astrid, as he settled himself high on the dragon’s neck and fussed about where his hands rested on the horns. “Get your backside up here or we’ll leave without you!”

Hiccup rolled his eyes; he had no intention of leaving without Snotlout, and was about to say so when the younger boy kicked the Monstrous Nightmare on either side of the neck. Hookfang’s eyes shot open, he spread his wings – wider than those of any of the other dragons – and shot off directly over the ocean.

Snotlout’s scream drifted back through the air.

“Oh, for Odin’s sake...” Hiccup put one hand over his eyes for a moment, then turned to the others. “Meet me at the sea stacks. Land on the largest one you can find, big enough for all of us. And try not to crash!” he added, as they started off. The last part was mostly aimed at the twins. “All right,” he said to Elsa. “Let’s go retrieve Snotlout.”

With only the slightest regret, he wheeled Toothless around and took off after the errant Nightmare. He supposed that he should be grateful how erratic Hookfang’s flying was, because otherwise it would have taken him longer than a couple of minutes to pull alongside and then in front, before whipping round so that the two dragons were all but face-to-face. Toothless shrieked, tossing his head, and Hookfang pulled up short with an almost guilty expression.

Snotlout had given up holding onto Hookfang’s horns, and was now clinging to his neck, helmet askew and face ashen. “You all right?” said Hiccup.

“Yep,” said Snotlout, none too forcefully.

“All right, then. How about you take back hold of his horns again, that’s it;” he wasn’t even sure for whose benefit the calming tone of voice _was_. It seemed to be working on both of them, though. “And we’ll fly over to the sea stacks. Sound like a plan?”

“Yep.” Either Snotlout had forgotten that Elsa was sitting right there, or he had given up on his machismo just for the moment. Hiccup didn’t mind either way.

They took a more sedate pace round to the sea stacks, passing within sight of a few fishing boats on the way. Considering they had probably been spotted – and heard – on the way out, it didn’t really seem to matter now. Perhaps seeing the dragons actually being flown without screaming and flailing would help somewhat.

Someone, Hiccup guessed Astrid, had found a suitably broad stack for them to set down on, though nobody had dismounted and he got a feeling there was impatience in the air. Toothless set down lightly, Hookfang landing with somewhat more of a clatter of claws behind them.

“So, like, how do we do this?” said Tuffnut. “How do we get the dragons under control?”

“It’s not so much control as learning to read each other,” replied Hiccup. “And it’s just practice. You need to learn how each other moves, so you’ll know what the other is about to do. And we’re going to learn that by weaving in and out of the sea stacks.”

Everyone started talking at once all over again. Was this what it was like for Stoick to be out chiefing? Hiccup gritted his teeth against the headache that was threatening to start up again. Those were getting rarer with time, at least, but he still had something of a tendency to them. Ruffnut and Tuffnut seemed in favour of it, Snotlout in favour but a little underwhelmed, Fishlegs concerned with the safety of it all and Astrid disappointed that all they were going to do was fly back and forth.

“All right, all right!” he shouted, managing to cut through everyone. “Fishlegs, Meatlug is not going to let you get hurt, you’ve got your babies with her. Snotlout, think of this as a step to doing more interesting things. And Astrid...” he saw the challenge in her expression, and narrowed his eyes. “If you think you can do better, come catch me.”

“What?” said Astrid.

But Toothless was already in the air again and dodging away between the sea stacks, and Hiccup looked over his shoulder and laughed as Astrid sprang into the air to pursue them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Nerd mode: spot the Jurassic Park reference.


	18. Chapter 18

Just flying, just letting Toothless test his wings again, had been one thing. This time they didn’t hold back. The stacks became pale blurs around them, the sea a blue-grey smudge below, and all that Hiccup cared about was ducking back and forth between the limestone pillars, Toothless’s tail snapping from position to position and his wings extending and furling to weave between them with inches to spare. Elsa might have screamed, but she was still holding on and that was good enough for now, and for one moment the exhilaration burning through him was of being completely _free_.

They wove, dodged, and he could not even look behind him to see whether Astrid was still in pursuit or not. There were enough sea stacks to make a fair maze, rather than a linear course, and they flitted between them like a shadow, dodging in and out of the weak sunlight.

Another stack; they whipped around and had to pull up short to avoid bumping into Astrid. “What the–” she started to say, but Hiccup just gave her a jaunty wave and disappeared off into the stacks once again. Laughter bubbled from his lips, and he didn’t care about the pain in his leg or the ache in the base of his skull.

“Fishlegs!” he heard Astrid shout, above the whistle of the wind. “Cover my right. Ruffnut, Tuffnut, _get over here_. Snotlout, come round to the landward side.”

So that was how she was going to play it. They took another corner so fast that the rush of air from Toothless’s wings knocked loose small rocks, and whipped so low over Ruffnut’s head that Hiccup could have reached out and snatched her helmet. He glanced up to see Astrid above the stacks, now, directing the others with shouts as his dare became a challenge that she simply could not resist.

“Snotlout, get to the landward side or so help me – left! Left! Fishlegs, cover that Thor-damned gap!”

Another turn bought him almost barrelling into Hookfang’s flared wings, and Toothless had to twist and roll back in mid-air – not an easy trick of the tail, either – to avoid him. Hiccup tried to take them right, only to find the twins blocking the way, then turned left to see Fishlegs. He was just about to dive through the last gap when a shower of fire spewed down, and Astrid dropped into it with a triumphant smile.

“So, how did I do?” she smirked.

“Not bad,” said Hiccup, with a nod of approval. “But on the other hand, you forgot about this.”

He snapped Toothless’s tail shut, and they dove.

On the land, Astrid’s trap might have worked, although he supposed that he could have gone upwards and tried to escape them that way. Astrid’s curse was cut off as the water surrounded them, but it was barely seconds before they burst to the surface again in a larger clear area behind Astrid. Toothless screamed in triumph, and then they shot upwards with the others following behind.

Hiccup was still laughing as they levelled out above the stacks and waited for the others to join them, at least until he realised that Elsa’s head was pressed to his shoulder and her hands were still wrapped tightly around him.

“Sorry,” he said. “Vikings can get a little... competitive.”

“Competitive,” she said to his shoulder blade. “I will avoid that word.” Slowly she raised her head, and he looked round to see her peering down at the top of the stacks. “Can I wait on the ground?”

Astrid and Stormfly were the first to rejoin them, Astrid shaking her head in something between frustration and admiration. “How long have you been doing this, again?”

“About three moons,” he called back. It was an understatement, really, not enough to describe three moons of flying every night, learning every shift and tensing muscle that it took, until it felt as if he could see through Toothless’s eyes as they flew. To Elsa, he said: “Are you sure? We’ll... probably cool it down a bit now.”

“I am sure,” she said.

He settled down on the largest nearby stack, and Elsa’s hands shook as she slid off from behind him. When she met Hiccup’s eye, she gave a weak smile, but it didn’t stop him from regretting that he had shot off like that. “Maybe we should try the Gronckle next time, huh?”

“I think I will stay with the ground.”

“Here,” said Fishlegs, landing beside them. The Gronckle moved far differently, slow movements in any direction rather than Toothless’s broad, powerful sweeps. Seeing them fly in the open air was far different to whatever they might have managed inside the arena. The two Gronckle hatchlings had wormed right up against him, but now he scooped them out of his lap and held them towards Elsa. “Why don’t you take care of these guys? I think this is a bit fast for them as well.”

“You are sure?” she spoke mostly to Fishlegs, but her eyes flickered down to Meatlug all the same. Meatlug sniffed her, then grunted approval and huffed to the hatchlings. They took off from Fishlegs’s hands and flew over, Silversnap somewhat less steadily than Skyfire and bumping into Elsa. Her smile became a little more true as she caught them. “ _Heiva, vaaku,_ ” she said gently.

“All right,” said Hiccup, feeling relieved beyond words once he saw Elsa relax once again. “I’ll see you later, all right? Don’t... wander off.”

That was enough to make Elsa laugh and glance around them. Even this stack was barely twenty feet across. “I will try,” she said seriously.

He spread Toothless’s tail, and they took to the air again, rising up to where the others hovered in more-or-less a ring above them. Fishlegs and Meatlug were not far behind. “All right then, folks,” he said, not sure whether he should be treating this like a lesson or something else entirely. “What say we get some flying practice in? Just see what these guys can do?”

“As long as you don’t dive off again,” said Astrid.

To be fair, he probably should stop doing that, at least whilst the others were trying to follow. “Now, all of your dragons were in pens for a while, and though they should have some of their strength back, but they might not be at full fitness. So–”

“Yeah, yeah,” said Snotlout. “Where are we flying to?”

Hiccup sighed. “How about we just... see where the air takes us, hmm?” And hopefully that would cover for the fact that he hadn’t much thought this through.

 

 

 

 

 

It was strange having other people flying as well. Hiccup was so used to flying alone and at night, just him and Toothless, that he did not really know what to do when people started shouting conversation at each other through the wind, or when Snotlout flew too close and he and Toothless had to roll aside to avoid the Monstrous Nightmare’s wing.

“Hey! Snotlout, remember, you’re sixty foot wide now! Come on!”

“Are you calling–” Snotlout seemed to remember Hookfang mid-sentence, and lowered the fist he was shaking. “Oh, yeah.”

The flight turned out to be for about as long as Hiccup could put up with the bickering before turning them around again. They were taking it gently, even if Hiccup had to force them to keep to a pace that everyone could stick to, and he could already hear Snotlout grumbling about the Gronckle being slower than the rest of the dragons. It was a relief when the sea stacks came back into view, and he craned his neck to remember which one of them Elsa was on.

It was the glitter of magic that caught his eye. She was making snowflakes for the hatchlings to chase, as she had made them for Toothless not that long ago. It felt like a lifetime, though. The sound of wings must have caught her attention; she looked round, the snowflakes fading from the air, and was pulling her bracelets back on as she rose to her feet. The buffeting wind from the wings of the dragons whipped her hair about, and the Gronckles set down against it.

“Need a ride home?” Hiccup called.

Elsa glanced around her, then smiled as she replied. “It might help.”

“If you want to take the Gronckle, I won’t be insulted. It’s a smoother ride,” said Hiccup, pointing his thumb towards Fishlegs. To be fair, he probably should have checked with Fishlegs before doing the volunteering, as the other boy looked round with wide eyes.

All the same, he set down to retrieve the hatchlings, and when Elsa smiled Fishlegs went red and offered to help her onto Meatlug’s back once again. Judging by the gentler take off and the fact that Elsa didn’t seem to be clinging to Fishlegs quite so badly as she had to Hiccup, it had probably been a better move than just swooping off on Toothless without warning.

He was the last one to dismount again when they reached the arena, partially so that he could see the others safely down and partially because he suspected he was going to fall off. Mercifully he did not, although he was very grateful of having the cane and could not help the sensation that he had taken his legs off without realising it. He gave his left a good shake, and did not dare do the same with the right.

“Hey, Elsa,” called Tuffnut abruptly. Hiccup winced as he turned. “How did you do that cool...” he waved his hands vaguely in the air, as if trying to keep a drunk person upright. “You know. The snow thing. Can you do it whenever you want?”

Hiccup had managed to turn the conversation away from Elsa every time that it had come up, something for which she had admitted she was grateful. Unfortunately, it seemed that Tuffnut had not taken the hint. With a sigh, he turned to say something, but was surprised for Elsa to reply first.

“I can usually control it. But I prefer not to use it around people.”

“Oh,” said Tuffnut, looking disappointed. “Pity.”

“Why?” Elsa stepped cautiously round Meatlug.

Tuffnut was squatting and straightening up repeatedly, windmilling his arms, and to be quite honest Hiccup wasn’t sure that he wanted to know why. For now he stood aside and watched as Elsa frowned, toying with the trollwort bracelets again.

“I don’t know,” said Tuffnut. Ruffnut took the opportunity to sweep one foot out from under him, and he landed on his backside. Not that it seemed to trouble him too much. “It’s awesome. That magic stuff.”

“You are not afraid?”

Tuffnut pointed over his shoulder to Barf and Belch. “Eh, you seem smarter than those guys. And they haven’t set us on fire yet.”

“Aside from that one time,” said Ruffnut.

“Oh, yeah, there was that one time. But we started it.”

By now, Elsa was wearing that mildly confused look that a lot of people tended to get when faced with the twins. “Oh... thank you,” she said.

“But yeah, you should totally do that ice armour thing again sometime. That was awesome. It looked all shiny and stuff as well.”

“I...” she glanced down at her hands. “I do not know if I can do that again.”

“Oh.” Tuffnut looked disappointed, but got back to his feet again. “So, what could you do?”

Elsa gave Hiccup a frightened look, and he walked over. “All right, Tuffnut, back off. Let her be.”

“I’m just asking!” Tuffnut protested. “It was cool! Like, could you make it snow?”

“Yes,” said Elsa.

“In there?” said Tuffnut, pointing towards the arena.

She looked over to it, then back to Hiccup, biting her lip just for a moment. He leaned over and put his hand on hers, but she snatched it away again so fast that they barely touched. He knew better than to be insulted. “You don’t have to do this.”

Elsa frowned. “Maybe I do,” she said quietly. Her hands clenched and relaxed, but still shook slightly she slipped off the trollwort bracelets and put them into Hiccup’s hand. They were looking ragged and worn, far more so than they should have been just from being taken on and off for a few moons. As she did so, sparks of ice appeared in her hair, and the air around them grew slightly colder. She carefully skirted around them all as she walked over towards the arena.

“This,” said Ruffnut,” is going to be amazing.”

The others went to follow, dragons hanging back a little, but Elsa turned as she reached the doorway and cautiously held up her hands. “No. You should not follow. It is not safe.”

“How about we wait in the doorway?” said Hiccup. It would be wide enough for all six of them to stand abreast, if the dragons stayed back. Even he had not seen too much of Elsa’s magic, and if he was honest with himself then he was curious as well. Elsa hesitated for a moment, looking troubled, then nodded. “All right, bud,” said Hiccup, patting Toothless’s head. “You and the others stay here, hmm?”

Toothless huffed, and Hiccup followed the others to the entrance to the arena. He couldn’t walk as fast as them yet, but they were dawdling anyway, and Astrid stopped at the top of the slope.

“Want a hand?”

“No, but a foot would be good,” he replied. He took a careful step with his left, making sure that he had grip, then slid his right down alongside it. Well, it wasn’t the fastest way, but it worked. Perhaps he could talk to Gobber about getting a set of steps put in at the side of the slope. The others were already waiting in the entrance, but they parted for Astrid and she elbowed Ruffnut along far enough for Hiccup to stand there as well.

Elsa had walked almost to the far side of the arena, but even from this distance Hiccup could see the nervousness in her expression as she looked at them. Taking a deep breath, she raised her hands to chest height, rolling them over one another.

A blue spark formed between her hands, then swelled to a ball of light. “ _Whoa_ ,” breathed someone, and Hiccup couldn’t even have said if it was him. Snowflakes glittered around it, huge and bright blue, fading away as they fell from her hands. The light seemed to become more solid, as Elsa’s hands moved to almost cup it instead, then with a flick of her wrist she threw it up into the air above them.

It went straight through the metal struts of the roof and burst apart into a shower of light, bright blue-white points that became snowflakes and began to fall softly around them. They were fat and fluffy, and Hiccup could not help holding out a hand to catch one in his palm. It lingered for a little longer than was normal, then melted away like any other.

Frost crept in tendrils from Elsa’s feet, creeping through the old cracks and weaknesses in the floor of the arena, curling up the sides. Within moments the snow began to settle in a thin layer all around her, but her eyes were on the sky even as Ruffnut was the first one to take a step into the arena. The snow crunched beneath her boots.

“Definitely amazing,” said Ruffnut.

Her words did not break Elsa’s reverie. As Snotlout bent to pick up a handful of the snow, and the others started to grab at it as well – unable to believe, perhaps, that it was real – Hiccup picked his way over to Elsa, carefully stepping over the streaks of ice. It was cold in the arena, but only just cold enough to snow rather than the horrific freezes that Berk had some winters, and he could only faintly see his breath.

“Hey,” he said, as he got close to her. Elsa looked around sharply, but he saw the tears in her eyes before she could blink them away. Hiccup frowned, and went to touch her shoulder, but she shied away from him again. “What is it?”

“I have not...” she put a hand to her throat for a moment, breathing deeply, before she could manage a reply. “I have not done this since many years. I used to do this for my sister.”

There was the pain again, making her look away and reach up to wipe a tear off her cheek. Hiccup shifted so that he stood between Elsa and the others, even if he wasn’t really the best person to try to block lines of sight. “I’m sorry,” he said quietly. “I didn’t know...”

Elsa shook her head. “I did not say.” The snow seemed to be heavier around them, settling in Elsa’s hair and on her shoulders. Hiccup reached up to brush off his own shoulders, though there was probably nothing to be done about his hair. “But it is better.” She looked around, and Hiccup turned to see that Ruffnut was already trying to stuff snow down Tuffnut’s shirt, and Snotlout was forming a snowball with a calculating look. “It is better if I remember this.”

Toothless padded down the slope and sniffed at the snow, then patted it with one paw and, with a huff, wandered in.

“Well... they aren’t scared,” said Hiccup. This time when he put his hand on Elsa’s shoulder, she did not pull away, though she did look warily at it. “See? You’re not in danger here.”

“This isn’t everything,” said Elsa. She looked down at her hands, pale and slim and perfectly normal, with nothing strange about them that Hiccup could see. He had held them enough to know that they were rough, and seen the scars on the back of them, but there was nothing that marked them as _magical_. “My power is more than this.”

The air that chilled around her, the ice she had flung at him, the ice armour that she had worn. Of course, there had been the spikes that ripped a dragon apart as well, and Hiccup could see why she could fear that. “The winter can be harsh sometimes,” said Hiccup. “It... doesn’t mean that we’re afraid of it.”

She looked at him warily. He was trying to think of something else to say, another sort of reassurance, when a snowball clipped his ear and splattered against the wall behind him. Hiccup turned to see a momentary guilty look on Snotlout’s face, before he tried to hide it and look nonchalant.

“Hey!” said Hiccup. “Guy with a cane over here!”

Snotlout turned away, just in time for Astrid to smash a particularly large snowball into his face. That was, at least, a sort of vengeance.

“So,” he said, holding up the bracelets, “do you want these back?”

She shook her head. “This will disappear if I do. I think your friends are having fun.”

“Yeah, we could probably leave them to it for a while.” Toothless stuck his head into a particularly large snow drift, snuffling around, then raised his head slowly as Skyfire pounced on his tail. “Do you mind if I sit on a table?”

When she did not object, he crossed to the nearest table and turned to shuffle backwards onto it. It was easier to sit on things that required him to shift upwards instead of sit down too far. The twins had apparently decided to throw snowballs at Astrid, occasionally pausing to smash them into each other instead. Astrid ducked the two thrown snowballs, flipped over the nearest table and dodged down behind it. On the far side of the arena, Fishlegs was starting to roll up larger balls, possibly heading towards a snowman.

“This could keep them busy for a while,” said Hiccup. He laid the cane on the table beside him and reached out to catch some of the soft flakes still drifting down. They clumped together at the gentlest squeeze of his hand. “We don’t normally get snow like this. Normally it’s either specks, or so thick you can’t see your own feet.”

Snotlout sauntered over to the table and offered to join Astrid and help her defeat the twins. In response, she swept his feet out from under him, stole his helmet, filled it with snow and jammed it back on his head all in under a second. He yelped and tried to roll away.

“You do not mind the snow?”

“Well, we’re more used to it,” said Hiccup with a shrug. “Snow isn’t exactly a novelty around Berk.”

“They... is that why they are not afraid of me?” Elsa looked up shyly from where she stood beside the table. Barf and Belch had stuck their heads in through the doorway now, and were snapping at the falling snowflakes. Fishlegs propped his first ball of snow, about eighteen inches high, into place, and set about rolling a second one.

Hiccup shrugged. “Maybe it helps a little. But... people won’t all be afraid, you know.” He gave her a smile. “This isn’t Arendelle. Maybe we’re made of sterner stuff up here, maybe we’re just idiots.”

A snowball slammed into the wall not six inches from his head.

“For example, Tuffnut just threw a snowball at someone who rides a Night Fury. Toothless!” he caught the dragon’s eye, then gestured in Tuffnut’s direction. Toothless bounded across and tackled Tuffnut into a snowdrift, the two of them vanishing into a puff of snow with a grunt and a scream respectively. “But no,” Hiccup turned back to Elsa again. “It’s not just about it being snow. Some people aren’t going to be afraid whatever happens. And once that starts, it will only spread. Besides,” he added, with a wave to the three-sided battle that Astrid, Snotlout and Ruffnut were now waging, “you just need to see the good in things.”

“Thank you,” said Elsa softly. She watched Skyfire and Silversnap jumping in and out one of the smaller drifts. “I... will remember this.”

 

 

 

 

 

It was approaching evening by the time that the snowball war was ended – Astrid, naturally, the winner – and Hiccup called a halt to the chaos. By that point, Toothless was starting to nose around in old barrels in a way that almost certainly meant that he was looking for food, and the other dragons would probably be starting to get hungry as well. “Come on,” he said. “Let’s get the dragons down to the beach, see if we can get them hunting again.”

Meatlug, at least, should remember; it had only been a few moons since she had been fully wild. Toothless had been eating fish from the pool in the cove – probably very depleted now, but hopefully not completely barren – but couldn’t exactly go flying off to feed without Hiccup. The others varied from six moons to Stormfly’s three years in the arena.

“Cool,” said Ruffnut and Tuffnut, almost at the same time. Ruffnut added: “Do we get to see them?”

“Do we get to help them?” said Tuffnut.

“I think they’ll be able to do it themselves,” said Hiccup. He glanced around the snow-filled arena – and it was still snowing gently, even now, just in their little patch – and then up the wet slope out, and made a decision. “All right, we’re going to fly down to the beach.”

Fishlegs stepped to Meatlug and slung his arm across her shoulders. “In front of people?”

“Yes,” said Hiccup firmly. “I think it’s time that we started to show people that we can control them.”

Hopefully, of course, they would actually be able to control them on the way over there. He waved Toothless over, brushed some snow off the saddle, and slid into it. Great, a cold backside, just what he needed.

“Come on, let’s get going.”

Hookfang and Stormfly had been reluctant to go back into the arena again, and Hiccup had said not to press the matter. Instead, they were waiting outside, Hookfang sleeping and Stormfly grooming her scales. The snow melted away as Elsa put on her bracelets again, leaving behind a pervading dampness that wasn’t really all that difference from Berk’s usual state.

“All right,” said Hiccup, as Toothless took off and banked around to face them again. “Now, we’re going to take this slow and steady, and–”

“We know!” shouted Astrid. She settled herself on Stormfly’s shoulders, and added something not-fully-audible about a cushion. “No screaming, no crashing, no crapping on people. We get it.”

“Stop taking the fun out of it!” replied Tuffnut.

Hiccup sighed. This time, he didn’t have to prompt before Fishlegs invited Elsa to join him on Meatlug, just wait for everyone to get airborne before leading them out and around the promontory that separated the rest of Berk from the arena. Toothless looked over his shoulder.

“I know, bud,” said Hiccup quietly, patting his head. “But someone’s got to keep an eye on them.”

He saw people pointing and staring as Berk came into view below them, and glanced over his shoulder to make sure that no-one was on the verge of falling off, or bucking around wildly. To his relief, everyone looked fine. It even looked oddly... impressive, seeing them all flying together like this. They swooped around, staying slightly wide of the land itself, until they settled down on the beach by the lower defences.

There were people down here as well, something which Hiccup had not expected. He cursed beneath his breath as he dismounted, glancing round to the others. No sign of his father or Gobber, either. It was probably the first time in years that he was relieved to see Spitelout appear on one of the towers, hauling around a bucket that was probably full of nails. He looked them over, nodded, and continued about his business. The defences were being fixed, though nobody was desperate amounts of effort into them now that there seemed to be a tentative peace. Hiccup didn’t think that they were needed at all, but not everyone trusted the dragons. It would take time.

He slipped off Toothless’s back, and the others dismounted as well. “Take off their bridles,” he added, and was faintly amazed when they actually did so, instead of rolling their eyes and asking why he was the one giving the orders. There was a lot riding on that couple of moons of knowing Toothless before the other dragons had come into play.

“All right, guys. No, sorry, I mean the dragons,” he said, as the humans looked round and the dragons other than Toothless ignored him completely. Hookfang had set about nibbling at a set of claws, and Meatlug was licking her hatchlings despite the fact that they were in Fishlegs’s arms. With a sigh, Hiccup stuck his fingers in his mouth and whistled.

That, at least, he could do. A sharp, loud whistle cut through the air, and all of the dragons perked up to look at him at the same time.

“There we go,” said Hiccup. He waved towards the ocean. “Go on, go catch yourselves some dinner.” Dragons ate fish, that much he definitely knew. He had even offered Toothless the choice between fish and mutton, both raw, and Toothless had pounced on the fish and sniffed the mutton curiously before eating it anyway. The dragons looked at him. “Go on. Go fish.”

Silence.

“You do realise that they probably don’t speak Northur?” said Astrid.

Hiccup put one hand to his forehead. “Thank you, Astrid, I never would have thought of that.” The words had been meant for the humans, the gestures towards the ocean for the dragons. “Come on, guys.” He waved more pointedly. “Get yourselves some dinner.”

“Maybe they think you are sending them away,” said Elsa.

The words took the wind from his sails. Hiccup scanned the rag-tag line of dragons in front of him – all different species, all held captive in the arena for so long, probably not even having age in common like their riders did. Meatlug was, indeed, giving him a singularly doleful look.

“You’re right,” he said quietly. “Come on, bud.” Before this could seem like a bad idea, he got back into Toothless’s saddle.

“Are we going riding again?” asked Fishlegs.

Hiccup waved them back. “No, you guys stay here, I’ll go with them.” He strongly suspected that this was going to end up with him getting wet. “Maybe they’ll figure it out if Toothless and I go along too. Elsa, do you mind waiting with these guys for a while?” she shook her head, still watching him with that expression which meant that she thought he was going to do something stupid and was probably right. “Great. Astrid, if you wouldn’t mind asking my father to get a good fire going, I’ll see you when I get back...”

He didn’t wait to explain, or to field the questions which he could hear everyone start to shout after him as they took off. At a call from Toothless, the other dragons followed, and Hiccup found himself with a whole train of dragons as he made his way out over the open see.

It was cold. Not cold enough to really snow, today at least, but nearly there, and his damp clothes from the snow in the arena stuck to his skin. Hiccup shook his hands out and tried not to shiver as he led the dragons north-west again, to the areas where the fishing boats didn’t tend to go. Of course, that had been because of the dragons and the unending fog, but he was hoping that some of it was going to be ingrained still.

A shoal of fish was a dark shadow beneath the surface. Hiccup had been on boats enough in his life to know what one looked like, even if his trips had not exactly been meant for fishing. Vikings didn’t miss the chance for a free meal. That Toothless licked his lips meant that he had spotted it as well, and as Hiccup banked them to hover above it, he hoped that the other dragons would do the same.

“Come on, Toothless,” he said, nudging towards a dive with his knee. He didn’t want to shift the tail fin until Toothless began to dive, otherwise it could get difficult. “Let’s go.”

Toothless chirped at him questioningly, looking back over his shoulder, and Hiccup nodded down towards the ocean again. For a moment, he could have sworn that Toothless _smiled_ , and then he felt the bunching of muscles which meant that he was ready to dive.

A snap of the tail, a tilt in the air, and then Hiccup bent down and clung to the saddle as Toothless streaked down towards the water’s surface. Hitting it at this speed was like a cold slap, and he held his breath as Toothless shot down, turned in the water, and propelled himself back towards the surface with a great pound of his wings. They broke the surface, Hiccup gasping for breath as he manipulated the tail again, Toothless snapping down fish with appreciative crunches. The water crashed and broke as the other dragons took the hint and started plunging down into the water around them, going down longer than Toothless, longer than Hiccup could have hold his breath.

“Thanks, bud,” Hiccup said, wiping water out of his face. With a tilt of his body, he added, “Go again?”

Toothless shrieked, and plunged down so fast that Hiccup barely had time to work the tail. This time it was easier to hold his breath until they broke the surface, and they barely hung in place a moment before dipping down a third time. It became a rhythm, dive after dive for fish, Hiccup clinging to the saddle and spitting out water and not even really feeling the cold with the rush of the whole thing. It was only when Toothless finally cut a lazy circle upwards, rumbling and flicking water off his plates, that Hiccup noticed the ache from clinging on and the fact that he was soaked to the skin with seawater.

He pulled seaweed out of his hair and laughed to himself. He wasn’t sure whether feeding Toothless with plain barrels of fish was sounding like a more sane idea, or a more boring one. Whether by some cue from Toothless or of their own accord, the other dragons joined them one by one, shaking water from their heads and flicking it off their wings with each stroke.

“You ready to head home?” Hiccup shouted. Stormfly actually shrieked in response, and he laughed again. Doubtful that they understood him, but for a moment he felt like a dragon. “Come on, Toothless.”

Toothless gave a little wiggle of his body and glanced at Hiccup over his shoulder. Berk was a smudge on the horizon, the mountains a ragged blur. It had taken them about an hour to get here at Meatlug’s speed, if Hiccup’s guesses by the position of the sun were right. It wouldn’t take Toothless that long.

“Go on then, bud,” he said with a grin, flattening himself down to the saddle. He opened Toothless’s tail.

With a shriek, Toothless seemed to jump forwards in the air. Hiccup had to hold on tight against the speed, the force of Toothless’s wings against the air, raindrops stinging his forehead and his hands. The sky was a grey blur and the sea a blue one, and Toothless rolled laterally in the air apparently for the sheer joy of it as they closed the distance to Berk. The others would be behind, perhaps at their own speeds or perhaps all together, but for a moment it did not matter because there was just Toothless, and him, and the sky beneath their wings and their muscles fighting at the air. He knew they weren’t his wings, not really, but somehow they felt like they were, and when Toothless screamed and fired into the air Hiccup might just have whooped too.

They landed behind his father’s house, and Hiccup stumbled off, still giddy and windswept and grinning like a loon. He almost fell over before remembering to get the cane off his back and actually use it, and even Toothless gave him a head-cocked, uncertain look.

“I’m all right, bud,” he said, patting Toothless on the nose. His hand was shaking slightly, just from the thrill of it all. “I’m good.”

They hadn’t flown that fast since the Red Death, and never before it either. Weaving through the stacks had been nimble, but not that fast, and Hiccup suspected that even this was not as fast as Toothless could go. That he still had speed left in him, enough that Hiccup would not be able to bear it. Well, not yet, anyway.

He heard the door open and Gobber appeared round the corner, mug on his left arm. “Where in Thor’s name have you been?” he said, eyeing Hiccup up and down. It was getting darker, the world pooling blue and fires burning from windows.

“Fishing,” declared Hiccup. He went to walk to Gobber, but one leg felt like jelly and the other one wasn’t behaving at the best of times nowadays, and he staggered into Toothless instead. It took a moment to compose himself and get back to walking normally again. “We just stopped off for some dinner.”

“We?”

“I took the others.” Hiccup waved at the horizon. “They’re coming. We went ahead.”

Gobber reached over and picked a scrap of fish skin off Hiccup’s shoulder. “I see. And were you planning on doing your own laundry, as well?”

That was enough to make Hiccup look down sheepishly at himself. He was soaked in brine, and spattered with bits of fish skin and gut as well for that matter. He flicked a small shell out of his tunic and gave Gobber an apologetic look. “I will?” he offered.

But Gobber just gave an unimpressed snort. “Aye, sure. If you’re anything like your father, you’ll have no clothes left by the end of it. You,” he said, slinging one arm around Hiccup’s shoulders to steer him towards the front door, “are going to be learning how to clean that leg of yours instead, because I doubt you want it rusting on you.”

He hadn’t even thought of that. Hiccup gave his foot a look as if it had betrayed him.

“Now let’s get you into some clean clothes and in front of the fire. I’m sure that your father will be dying to hear the explanation for this one.”

Dragons, thought Hiccup, were all the explanation that he had. And all the explanation that he needed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The end - of one fic! But it's still [the beginning of another](http://archiveofourown.org/works/6205909). Hiccup, Elsa and Toothless are just starting their adventure, I promise that much.
> 
> My thanks again to ashleybenlove, and to my amazing readers and commenters. You have absolutely kept me going through this insanity of a fanfic, and I am honoured to have written for you all.


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